


things you say that make my heart go wild

by antoniohiggins



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Italian Race, Love Confessions, M/M, References to Depression, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's cute tho tbh, like every other chapter, sprace aka my life source lmao, they cook a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 04:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12999849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antoniohiggins/pseuds/antoniohiggins
Summary: the first installment of a collection of newsies one-shots (some connected, some completely random) that made me get into writing again, so here goes nothing! requests are always open and im always looking for suggestions and/or chapter ideas for this fic!





	1. 1 - none of this is your fault

Race was sitting on the steps of the Brooklyn boy's apartment building fiddling with about half a cigar between his fingers. His hat was pulled on tighter than usual, forcing his blonde curls to cover more of his face as he looked down. His knees were scraped up with holes in his trousers and blood just seeping through the holes. His exposed arms were covered in bruises and Spot stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw him. Sure, they had been best friends since their selling days together when they were kids, but it had been ages since something like this had happened. After a while, Race got used to getting into scruffs with locals, being from Manhattan and all, but in the few years since they stopped selling, he hadn't had a problem. He had found a small apartment just on the other side of the bridge and Spot was never more than five minutes away to protect him. In a completely platonic way of course, yep, nothing more than that.

So to see the boy Spot had spent years trying to keep out of harms way, sitting beaten and bloodied on his doorstep, Spot had plenty of pent up worry to let out.

"Tony, what the hell happened t'ya?" He practically slid down in front of him and he kneeled on the pavement, taking in the boy's injuries. Every possible explanation was running through his head as to what could have possibly happened, but Race just sat there, not moving and not saying anything. "Antonio, c'mon, please say somethin'."

Race just sniffled, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes as Spot felt his breath hitch in his throat. He took the boy's shaking hands in his own, lifting Race's chin delicately as he saw the real reason why his hat was pulled so far down his face.

"Shit, Racer, who did this?" He was trying so hard not to yell, he really was, but someone hurt his boy. Yeah, so he fucking loved him, so what? It wasn't like he'd ever tell anyone about it. He just couldn't imagine anyone having any reason to want to hurt him, especially since he wasn't selling papes anymore. Nowadays he just stayed back at his apartment working on recipes or filling his kitchen with way more food than he could ever eat himself.

"Jus' some guys that jumped me 'n this bar downtown," Race mumbled, leaning his head into Spot's hand that gently cupped his cheek. "It's nothin' bad really, I jus' didn't feel like goin' home alone again s'all."

Spot felt his heart wrench at the thought of Race sitting alone in his bathroom, cleaning up all his cuts and bruises in silence with no-one there to take care of him. But instead he went to him.

"Hey, hey it's okay. It's okay Tony, jus' come wit' me, we'll get ya' all cleaned up."

He held the boy's arm as he helped him to his feet, wary of how well me might be able to stand. Race wobbled a little, but shook his head the moment Spot stopped moving.

" 'm fine Spotty, jus' been sitting 'ere a while is all," Race spoke, not helping Spot's racing heartbeat much, but helping enough for him to get the boy upstairs. The moment they walked into Spot's apartment, Race finally felt safe. So maybe he hadn't told Spot the whole story, but he would, he always did. Besides, it always seemed like Spot was the best one to talk to. He never judged, never prodded, and most of all, never made him feel guilty if he didn't want to talk. Race loved him for that. For a lot of reasons actually, but he'd never tell.

Spot carefully walked the boy over to the sofa, helping him lay down before wrapping him in the blanket he knew Race loved to borrow when he came over, and, purely out of what felt natural, placed a quick kiss on his forehead. He walked off into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and didn't look back.

Race could feel the heat rising to his cheeks like a wildfire as he curled the blanket tighter around him and smiled softly.

Spot barely even realized what he had done before he reached the kitchen and suddenly his face was burning. He just did that. He just kissed Race. He just _kissed_ the one and only Antonio Higgins and didn't get slapped in the face for doing it. Sure, it was just on the forehead, but _fuck he probably knows now_.

So Spot took a shaky breath and pulled out two mugs from his cupboard. He knew which one was Race's favorite, he always used the same one every time he stayed over. It felt somewhat strange to be the one making Race a cup of coffee, seeing as the other was always the first one up, and therefore, always the one making coffee. Two mugs, one yellow one blue, one with sugar and the other black, and one just warm with the other scalding hot. Seventeen cautious steps that Spot took back into the living room as he handed Race his cup of coffee. The other boy curled up his legs to his chest, making space for Spot to sit down.

He sat, staring lovingly at the boy beside him and he guided Race's legs to stretch across his lap, rubbing soft circles into his thigh.

"Thanks," Race mumbled quietly, a casual smile on his face. Spot beamed back at him.

" 'Course," he said back with a smile. "But I just have to ask, Tony."

The second those words left his mouth Spot saw Race's smile fall.

"No, no, no, it's okay, yous' don't gotta' talk about anythin' you don't wanna." Race nodded, keeping his head down.

"I know," he spoke, his voice still small. This wasn't the Race he knew and that was the only thing driving Spot to push further. "But yous' deserve to know."

Spot felt a slight lightness in his chest as he continued. Race trusted him. He was scared and uncomfortable, but he trusted him.

"Last night I went out wit' a few a' the 'Hattan boys to this new bar that opened a few blocks down from the old lodgin' house. Jack n' I had been plannin' to meet up wit' some'a the boys still sellin' over there so a few of us all went down last night. It was a gay bar, Spotty," he said, his voice trembling just retelling it. Spot took one of his hands, holding it delicately as he began to rub into his hand the same way he did to his legs. "I didn't think it'd be much of a' problem, but there were these guys."

Tears fell from the corners of his bright blue eyes, drowning his freckled cheeks and breaking Spot's heart with each one that fell.

"We jus' wanted ta' celebrate 'cause it was Jack 'n Crutchie's annivers'ry, but these guys, they-they jus' started goin' after 'em and  pickin' a fight. I-I couldn't let 'em just do that, Sean! I-I stepped in 'nd tried to protect 'em, but this big guy, he-he just soaked me with no hesitation! I didn't even know what happened 'cause I jus' blacked out after a coupl'a punches," he choked out, sobbing through every word. "Then I jus' woke up lookin' like this in the alley out back behind the bar. Now that I think 'bout it, I's not even sure it was last night."

With that, Spot grabbed both of their coffee mugs, placing them on the table beside him and threw his arms around the boy. His lanky frame was shaking violently and spot just pulled him into his lap. They stayed like that for ages, Spot trying to slow the other's breathing and just holding him tightly.

"Hey, hey, it's okay Tony, just breathe, you're okay," Spot murmured into the boy's ear, pressing soft kisses into his hair and cheeks.

"'m sorry," Race mumbled, the most painful sadness in his voice as he buried his face into Spot's chest.

"Antonio Higgins, I promise you, **none of this is your fault**. Got it? None of it. You are absolutely incredible, Tony. Not many guys would'a stood up to a group a' guys like that jus' to protect their friends like that."

Race smiled a bit at that. Spot couldn't help but admit it was nice to see his smile. God, how he loved that smile. His crooked grin and magically straight teeth. The way he somehow had two dimples on each side when he grinned real big. That smile was worth everything to Spot Conlon and he'd say or do anything to see it.

So he took a chance, feeling his heart beating out of his chest, and pressed their foreheads together. He could feel Race's breath hitch against his lips as their faces somehow got closer and closer with every breath.

"Stop me if this isn't okay," he whispered, probably less that an inch from the other boy's face.

Letting his eyes close on instinct, Spot softly pressed his lips to Race's trembling ones, feeling the boy's smile threatening to break the kiss. He almost couldn't believe his luck. Someway, somehow, the most beautiful boy to ever set foot in New York was kissing him back and smiling so wide he almost couldn't believe someone could be that happy. But he was, and Spot would be lying if he said he wasn't too.

"Fuck, Sean I' been waitin' for you to do that since the day I first saw you," Race mumbled against Spot's lips, breaking their kiss for only a moment. They both couldn't mask their smiles any longer. "I can't believe this is happenin', holy shit."

And with that breathy laughter, the boy threw his arms around the shorter of the two, eternally grateful for having someone like him in his life. Someone to hold when the days were shitty, someone to visit when you just need something to make you smile, or someone always ready with a joke when you desperately need to laugh. Sean Conlon had been all of those things for him for longer than he could remember, but now he was something else.

Now he was someone to tell him he was beautiful even with bruises across his face and dark circles under his eyes. Now he was someone to make you forget there were people out there who abandoned you because now there's one person who will never let you go. And most importantly, now he had some one to say this.

"I love you so much," Spot whispered, the pure, unfiltered happiness shining through his voice as he pressed their lips together once more. Race wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry with the most overwhelming joy he'd ever experienced because it had been _years_ since he'd heard someone say that to him. _Years_ since someone loved him enough to say it out loud.

But he didn't. That would be reserved for later when his brain actually fully processed everything that had happened.

"Oh my god, I love you too. So, so much."

And that was that. They didn't move for a little while, both just enjoying each other's presence for a while before Spot remembered something that, awkwardly, they had both completely forgotten.

"Fuck, okay we gotta' go get you all cleaned up, love." The nervous awkwardness that filled his voice was so not-Spot Conlon that it almost made Race laugh out loud but he simply nodded and allowed his new _boyfriend?_ to lead him to the bathroom to wash up. They were doing fine so far, and who knows, maybe Race'll go back to that bar one day and find those guys again, except maybe this time he'll be able to tell them that _apparently_ beating the shit out of people doesn't make you any less-gay, in fact, it actually just gets you a boyfriend. 


	2. 2 - I’m perfect right here with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they love each other, that's all. also, I have a few future chapters of this already written/planned so I'm sort-of setting those up with little hints here and there;)
> 
> also this storyline will probably go on for a few more chapters, but after that I think I'll move on lol

"So," Spot started as he ran a washcloth under the bathroom sink. Race had seated himself on the edge of the tub, having changed into a pair of Spot's shorts to better clean his legs. "I know we's need to talk 'bout this, but if it's okay with you's, I'd rather jus' get you cleaned up and figure this all out once you're okay."

Race nodded, nervously picking at the hem of his t-shirt.

"I know, 't's just, I really like you," he said with a hopeful smile as he looked up at Spot standing beside him. "And unless it's what you wants, I don' really want ta' just abandon this, ya' know?"

"That's the last thing I'd ever want," Spot replied, kneeling on the floor in front of Race as he pressed the damp cloth to his knee, immediately retracting his hand as the boy hissed in pain.

"No, no 'ts okay, jus' get it over with," he spoke through gritted teeth as he forced out a little laugh.

So Spot continued, washing the dried blood and dirt from the boy's legs, trying not to imagine how every cut, bruise, and scrape was formed. He would've taken them all on himself if he could. It probably took longer than it should've, considering Spot was going impossibly slow and careful with every inch of the other boy's body. He did finish though, helping the other to stand before they both retreated to their previous position on the sofa and covered in blankets.

"Shit, wait when was the last time yous' had anythin' to eat?" Spot asked, breaking a comfortable silence as he returned to his state of overwhelming concern.

Race felt his face heat up as he racked his brain trying to remember.

"I... I's not sure. It could'a been yesterday at lunch, but it also could'a been ages before that. I jus' don't know how long I was out," he said nervously as if he thought Spot would be upset. Sure, maybe the reaction on his face wasn't ideal, but it wasn't a mad one. No, he was horrified.

"Okay that's it, you stay right 'ere, I'm gonna' make yous' some food and then after that I'm goin' to Kelly and hopefully he's got some sorta' information 'bout this," Spot rambled as he stood, heading for the kitchen before Race grabbed his wrist, stopping him and standing up himself.

"No way, Spotty, there's no way I'm letting yous' get back in that kitchen." The lightness in his teasing tone was enough to slow Spot's racing heart as he crossed his arms across his chest with a fake-annoyed huff.

"Really? So now yous' some sorta' master chef or somethin'?"

"Actually yeah, just about."

"Fuck you, okay fine you can help but that's all," Spot caved, partly just because he knew Race was beyond right. That boy made food straight out of any restaurant and Spot, well, he once tried to boil water by putting a pot in the oven.

So they made their way in, Spot grabbing a box of pasta and tossing it to Race who had already started a pot of boiling water on the stove. They worked in comfortable silence, nothing but the quiet crackling of the cooking pasta filling the space.

"Okay, we's got a problem," Spot stated, ducking out from the cupboard. "There's no sauce."

Race chuckled, wondering why he even thought it would be something significant that was wrong, but nonetheless, left the pot on the stove as he grabbed various ingredients out of the fridge, none of which Spot had any idea the use of.

"'t's fine, I'll jus' make some," Race replied casually, setting up a saucepan on the second stove burner. Spot just started at him in disbelief.

"How the hell d'ya just _make some_?" He sounded so offended by Race effortlessly mixing together a collection of things that Spot couldn't even tell you the names of.

Race chuckled, not taking his attention away from the food as he felt Spot's arms slide around his waist. Everything was still so awkward for them, seeing as how they had cooked together, if you count Race cooking and Spot "helping", dozens if not hundreds of times before, but still, their relationship had changed and neither of them would ever really get used to it.

As Spot rested his his chin on Race's shoulder, the boys returned to their silent cooking, Spot pressing occasional kisses to the other's neck. Neither of them wanted to talk about it, secretly both wanting to bask in the elusive stage of blissful ignorance forever. It was fine for now, no reason to rush into decisions yet.

Once they finished, both boys retreated to the living room, sinking into Spot's sofa side by side. To say the least, Spot basically just had a mouth orgasm.

"Holy fuck Tony, this 's the best thing I've ever eaten," Spot gushed, turning to the boy beside him who had the proudest smile on his face.

So they ate in silence, Spot carefully watching to make sure Race was still okay. He had no idea how long it had really been since he'd last ate and honestly, considering how little he remembered, there was always a possibility that some drinks were spiked. Still, he seemed fine, picking away at his pasta the way he always did with one single noodle at a time.

"I'm serious, you're amazing. This could be in'a  restraunt or somthin', Racer," Spot continued, apparently not realizing the compliment meant so much more to Race than he could tell.

"Thanks, Spotty," he mumbled with a soft smile on his face. "My ma'd always make this when I was a kid, it feels weird to actually make it myself, ya'know?"

The other just nodded, not really knowing what it felt like, but vaguely understanding in other ways. He could remember the way he felt back when when he would teach his younger newsies to tie their shoes or fasten their suspenders just as his dad did when he was little. He remembered the things his dad would always tell him made the best newsies. His family used to get an evening pape' every friday night when his dad came home from work and the moment he would walk in the door, he would read it to his son before explaining exactly why he bought from the kid he chose. Sometimes it was because a certain kid decided to spend more time washing up so he would like nice for potential buyers. Sometimes it was a particularly convincing lie one of them told, or a clever way of twisting the headline. He wanted Spot to take his job one day, selling their products to major companies and markets, and for years his way of teaching him the tricks of the trade was to tell him about kids he saw that had figured it out already. He always remembered the ways his dad would compare the newsies from different boroughs so he knew what tricks worked on each type of person. He walked home through lower Manhattan every night.

Spot couldn't help but wonder if he ever saw Race out there. If, while Spot was at home waiting for his dad, he was actually out there talking to the boy his son would fall head-over-heels for one day. Maybe so.

He barely even noticed how caught up in his thoughts he had gotten.

"Sean, you alright? Spotty, did I say somethin'?" Race brought him back down to Earth as he shook his head, leaning into the taller boy's side as they cuddled further into the sofa. Damn if any of their other friends could see him now.

"Nah, it's nothin', I'm jus' thinking 'bout what you was sayin'. Don't worry 'bout it." Race nodded, burying his face in Spot's soft hair as he pulled one of their blankets further over them.

They wouldn't say it, but just sitting there like that felt warm, and safe, and just separated from every other thing in their lives. There were no expectations, no risk of judgement, and no-one to worry about but each other.

"Is it okay if we just sleep right 'ere?" Race's sleepy voice broke through the silence, his voice brushing along Spot's neck. The latter smiled and laid down beside Race on the couch.

"You's sure? If you want, I's got a bed in there," Spot half-teased, not making any efforts to move.

Race nodded, curling their bodies tighter together as he whispered, "Definitely. **'m perfect right here with you**."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty sure that was the first time i ever wrote the word 'noodle' in a fic before wow
> 
> anyway if you'd like more of these, let me know! check me out on tumblr at @gaytreebros for my main, or my new newsies account @tony-higgins ! !
> 
> all kudos, comments, etc are greatly appreciated! also im willing to take any sort of requests for this fic (it's sort of turning into one universe of one-shots, but oh well lol)


	3. 3 - I promise, I would never hurt him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spot takes race back to brooklyn and things get awkward real fast
> 
> but then it's cute dw
> 
> also a lot of this chapter focuses mainly on spot just because i love him and i like making him soft whoops

The following morning, Spot woke up to the sound of the old circulation bell they had both grown up hearing and found themselves still tangled up in each other on the sofa. Spot was the first one up, glancing beside him to see Race still asleep peacefully. For good reason, he had honestly thought it was all a dream, but feeling the other boy's body pressed up against his own and hearing his soft breathing beside him proved that it wasn't. That was both good and bad.

Good because the boy Spot had loved for the better part of his life now knew how he felt, but bad because it meant the events that led to it still happened. It didn't matter what they both got out of that situation if Spot could just make the night a few days ago never happen, he would. He would hopelessly pine for another few years if it meant Race and all their friends were still safe. He loved Race with all his heart but starting their relationship wasn't worth everything that led up to it.

"C'mon," he whispered, nudging the boy beside him who stirred gently in response. "Racer, c'mon we gotta' get you's back home."

Race didn't get up, instead just wrapped his arms around Spot's torso even tighter and shook his head.

"I am home," he mumbled out in a voice so quiet Spot would've never heard it had they not been inches apart.

Spot felt his face surge with heat as the butterflies in his stomach that never seemed to go away, simply grew. God, how did he live so long without this?

"I know baby, you's always got a home 'ere, but I'm sure Kelly 'nd all those other boys is real worried about ya'," Spot countered, pressing a quick kiss to the other's forehead as they slowly emerged from the sofa, still wrapped in both the blankets and each other. Race winced as he fully stood up, leaning into Spot more than he had the night before, filling the other boy's head with panic.

"Race? Tony talk to me, what's wrong?" Spot slid his arms around the other boy's waist, propping his lanky body up against his own.

"'m fine, jus' a little sore is all," Race spoke through gritted teeth as he held the back of the couch for support.

Spot felt the panic subside a little as he helped Race down the hall and into his bedroom. Depositing him on the bed, Spot turned to his dresser and pulled out a new set of clothes, all of which Race had left behind during the many times he had stayed over. He tossed the clothes to the boy who took them gratefully, before speaking up, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"Hey, Spot?" Race asked in a shy, yet sneaky voice. "Could I maybe borrow some a' yours? 'ts nice and all that ya' keep my things here, but I've jus' always kinda wanted to share clothes wit' someone, ya'know?"

Spot swore his heart grew ten sizes just picturing it. He practically dove back into his dresser as he pulled out a sweater from his drawer, tossing it to Race.

"You's taller than me, but you's like a stick so's it should fit mostly fine," Spot mumbled, trying not to sound as heart-sick as he was.

Race was beaming. He tore off the shirt he had been wearing since the day before and instantly melted as the soft fabric covered his torso. Spot was much broader than he was and, though it was plenty big enough in that department, the hem fell a bit short, barely reaching the hem of his pants. He chuckled, shrugging it off as he quickly changed into his own pair of jeans the moment Spot left the room. Sure, they'd been best friends for years and maybe they were dating now, but neither of them wanted to potentially overstep any boundaries.

Spot stood by his front door, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt as he waited for the other boy to join him. It took a little bit longer than usual, seeing as Race couldn't move as easily as before without hurting himself, but still, it was worth it the moment he stepped out the door. Spot's words died in his throat the moment he saw the other walking towards him.

"Y-you...you look g-great, Tony," he mumbled, taking one of Race's hands in his own.

Race blushed and held his chest with his free arm, subtly taking in the scent and savoring it.

"As do you," he said back with a smirk. They exited the apartment and headed for the stairs. "Jus' know it's gonna' be a while before you's gettin' this back."

Spot chuckled, locking the door behind them.

"Keep it as long as you'd like, 'ts cute."

They reached the door to the stairs and Race's heart suddenly sank.

"I'll carry ya', don't worry," Spot said, as if he could read Race's mind.

Race scoffed, trying not to make the redness in his cheeks as obvious as it felt. 

"I don't need you's carrying' me," he argued, attempting to take a step before toppling over onto the handrail. Spot laughed, stepping in front of the boy as he lifted Race onto his back. Thankfully the taller boy was quite the stick and weighed barely anything on Spot's back, making the fact that his feet were dragging on the ground a little less obvious. They reached the bottom of the stairs and Spot carefully lowered Race to the ground, slinging the other's arm around his shoulders to stabilize him as they began to walk. Thankfully Spot's apartment wasn't too far deep into Brooklyn territory and therefore, walking back to Manhattan wouldn't be too far. 

About three blocks of their casual bantering back and forth as the walked, Race began to notice a few of the new Manhattan newsies, none of which he actually knew, but all of which looked absolutely terrified of the infamous Spot Conlon back on Manhattan turf. After Race and most of the other older boys stopped selling, Spot didn't really have much of a reason to venture so deep into Manhattan. Race lived right on the outskirts and he never really visited the other Manhattan boys' apartments alone, so it had probably been years since he had last walked these streets. 

They ignored the whispers between young newsies on the streets as the approached the old Manhattan lodging house, knowing Jack often came to help out the kids on his day off from class which was thankfully that same day. Race let go of Spot as he held to a column on the front steps of the house as Spot knocked on the door, receiving an answer within seconds. A tall boy with round glasses perched on his nose swung open the door and his face was full of surprise at the small Brooklyn boy in front of him. 

"Spot? What're ya doin' here?" He looked past Spot and his tan-skinned face went pale as he saw Race holding himself up with a pained smile and bruises covering his face. "Racer, holy shit what happened to you's?"

Spot just brushed off his questions, looking past him at all of the younger boys he didn't know staring back at him with fear in their eyes. 

"We'll explain later, but for now we's got to see Jack, 's he here?"

The boy nodded frantically and turned to call up the stairs. 

"Hey, Jack! C'mon, we need's ya' down here!"

Less than a minute later, Jack Kelly himself came jogging down the stairs and up to the door. 

"Ahh hey there, Spotty," Jack said with a smirk as he leaned up against the doorframe. "What brings you's over to this fine side of the city?"

Spot couldn't return his smile, as funny as it was to see all the little boys' jaws drop at Jack's casual demeanor, as he held his arm out to Race, who took it and stumbled over to stand beside him. Jack's grin dropped in seconds. 

"For fuck's sake Racer, we's been lookin' for ya' for days!" He immediately pulled the younger boy into a hug, causing Race to wince at the pain in his chest, and Spot to step in protectively. 

"Hey, careful wit' him! He's hurt real bad, Kelly," Spot practically yelled, carefully loosening Jack's grip on the other boy's torso.

"Ahh shit, sorry Tony. We's just been worryin' about ya' so much these past few days. That night at the bar we all got knocked up pretty bad, but when we's all came to the next mornin' you's was the only one who wasn't there. I had guys out for hours lookin' for ya' but nobody had any idea where you was." Jack looked as if he could cry as he ran his hands through his hair over and over again as if he was thinking the whole situation through in his head. "Conlon, you didn't have anythin' to do wit' this, did ya'? Becuase I swear if I find out you's the one who did this-"

"Are you kiddin'? I would  _never_ lay a hand on 'im! Never! **I promise you, I would never hurt him**!"

"Stop!" Race stepped back from Jack's grasp as he held tightly to Spot's side. "No, he...he took care a' me." His voice went soft as he looked over to Spot, who smiled softly up at him. 

Jack folded his arms over his chest, a quizzical look in his eyes as he waited for the boys to elaborate. 

"I don't even know what day it was when I woke up back behind the bar, but it wasn't too far to get to Spot's apartment and I knew it'd be easier to find in the dark than anyone else's, so I came and waited until he got back from work and he took care a' me. He cleaned me up and got me clean clothes and, well, he can't cook for shit so I made the food, but he took good care a' me, Jackie," Race sounded so nervous for once, but he knew from experience that Spot was only mean and scary if it was to protect any of his kids or his friends, and if standing up to Jack meant proving his assumption about Spot wrong, then he would do it with a smile. 

Jack stood still for a second, just looking back and forth between the two boys before holding his hand up to his face, spitting, and holding his hand out to Spot. The other smiled just a little and did the same, shaking Jack's hand strongly. 

"Well, I believe a proper thank you 's in order then. Trust me, I'd rather have 'im safe with you's than most people on this Earth so thank you. I really don't know what I would'a done if something worse had happened," Jack spoke, a tone of sheepishness in his voice as he clapped Race on the shoulder and led the boys inside. Spot slid his arm around Race's waist for  _purely walking-assistance reasons_ as the two sat down on the ratty old sofa in the common room. Most of the boys that had rushed to see the scene that brought Spot Conlon back to Manhattan were gone by then, all having hurried off to go get ready for bed, and a few older boys remained around the first floor. Jack sat at the dining table sketching something that Spot assumed was for his art classes, but he couldn't see from so far away. The boy with the glasses, Specs as he recalled, was washing up some dishes in the kitchen as a group of boys he didn't know crowded around in a circle on the floor playing a heated card game of some sort. 

"Hey Jack," one of the boys on the ground spoke up. "Are we's eatin' tonight or what?"

Jack groaned sarcastically, casting aside his sketchbook and dragging his feet into the kitchen. 

"Fine, but we's got nothin' but pasta or soup so take ya' pick," Jack retorted with a disappointment in his voice as he began to retrieve the ingredients from the various cabinets in the kitchen. 

Race caught Spot's attention easily as the boy's face broke out into a giddy smile. He was practically bubbling with excitement as he grabbed Spot’s arm and dragged the boy along into the kitchen with him. 

“I’ll never get how you’s actually enjoyin’ this. If I never had ta’ cook a day in my life, I’s livin’ the dream,” Spot teases with a chuckle as he stuck right by Race’s side, earning a light laugh from all the other boys as well. 

“Well, maybe you’ll never have to anymore,” Race returned with a light blush creeping up his neck as he thought of maybe one day living together. Maybe. 

Neither Spot nor the other boys said anything for a little while after that as small groups turned to their separate conversations and turned away from the two boys by the stove. Spot’s supporting hand dropped from around Race’s torso to his waist and fell into position behind him, comfortably resting his head on the taller boy’s shoulder, just as he did the night before. Race had boiled and drained the ravioli and opened up the can of soup, pouring it into another pot on the burners. He tossed in a few varieties of spices and things that looked like leaves, all of which Spot did _not_ believe belonged in a soup, but he wouldn’t question it. They began a quiet conversation of small talk and inside jokes, laughing softly and paying no attention to the other boys around them that had begun to notice. The two were in their own little world, forgetting for just a moment that they were not at home, but at the lodging house surrounded by all of Race’s childhood friends. He didn’t really mind and instead just paid attention to the food, adding the pasta to the soup. 

They didn’t realize how bad it must’ve looked until some young boys came running downstairs at the smell of food. By then all the others had taken note of their position. No one spoke up about it, but Jack would be sure to talk to them both about it later. 

He loved Race like a brother and knew that he could make his own decisions, but nonetheless wanted to warn the boy about the world outside their little family. Jack had long since established a policy on tolerance and made sure that their little home was a safe place for everyone, but he wasn’t blind to the rest of the world. He knew out on those streets they would be dead on-sight if anyone saw them like that. Maybe even in Brooklyn too, if the boys there didn’t know. 

Still, he trusted Spot, to say the least. Back when they first met, he stood with Manhattan through the scariest thing they had ever done and had been allies ever since. As much as it had hurt them at the time, the fact that Spot, the boy known for jumping at any chance to fight, hadn’t taken his boys to the strike the first time just in case it wasn’t safe was one of the things he most admired. He knew he stayed true to his own and if it meant anything at all, he knew Spot would take care of his boy too. 

So as a substantial crowd of almost every newsie in Manhattan began to form around the kitchen, only the first few boys caught a glimpse of the famous Spot Conlon actually touching one of Manhattan’s finest, and not just to soak him. However, that was before Spot let go and practically ran to the other side of the kitchen. He looked up at Race, now facing him, and matched his sad smile.

Race proudly served all the boys in waiting, unable to keep a smile off his face as he tried not to linger on the feeling of the other boy's arms around him or how he could feel Spot's heartbeat against his back. Instead, he stayed silent as the young newsies giddily ate, marveling at the meal unlike any most of them had eaten in years. As soon as the younger boys were all taken care of, the older boys all grabbed their bowls and retreated to the roof. The sun was nearing the horizon as the small circle of boys who were more of a family than anything they had ever known turned drowsy and nostalgic. Old inside jokes were tossed around and genuine laughs could be heard only by those lucky enough to create them. 

There was something to be said about what these boys were to each other. They were a family of all sorts, brothers each and every one of them, and Spot watched on with a sense of peaceful longing. Race had long since slumped against his shoulder, only speaking up occasionally and probably tired beyond belief, but he seemed comfortable. These boys were good to him, always had been, and likely always would be. He just hoped it stayed that way once he and Race sorted out the details between them. He knew Jack led his boys well. They treated each other the same no matter what their differences were and as they sat around the rooftop, no one seemed to mention how Jack sat so casually with Crutchie's hand in his own. No one acted like anything was going on and Spot just looked down at Race leaning against his shoulder and kissed the top of his head softly. Race blushed bright red as he nervously glanced around at his friends, none of which seemed to care. Jack looked over at him with a smile and Race just knew they'd be talking later. Feeling a little more comfortable, he turned beside him and pressed a quick kiss to the side of Spot's jaw. He yawned, burying his face into the crook of the boy's neck and let his eyes flutter closed. 

Spot smirked, looking at the sun that had just barely set below the horizon and guessed it had to be no later than six o'clock. He carefully slid his arm around Race's waist and sat back, listening to the other boys' conversation.

"Ay' how 'bout you guys go get the kids made up for bed and I'll clean all this up, m'kay?" Jack spoke up, looking at the other boys around the circle who stood up, continuing to talk as they made their way down the fire escape. Jack crossed the roof and sat across from Spot and Race, not moving from their position. 

"So's this a thing now?" Jack questioned, keeping his voice quiet enough not to wake the sleeping boy. Spot blushed as he ran his free hand through his hair. 

"I dunno' Jackie," he spoke, a sad fondness in his tone. "I think maybe we is, but I don't want'a rush into anythin' that could get 'im hurt again."

Jack looked at the bruises covering Race's face and arms and gave a sad smile before he tugged up the end of his shirt, revealing his torso wrapped in bandages. 

"I assume he told'ya about what happened, but one'a the guys nicked me with a broken bottle," he said, gesturing to his side as Spot's jaw went slack. "Not enough people are ready to be 'n this sorta' situation b'cause people jus' aren't ready to realize that people aren't doin' anything wrong for jus' loving each other. I understand how you don' want anythin' happening to 'im, believe me, seein' those guys the other day goin' after Charlie was the most terrifyin' thing I's ever seen, but at least to me, it's worth it. It's worth the risk b'cause you get to be happy wit' the person you love and as scary as it might be, it's just somethin' that isn't worth losing."

Spot nodded, glancing down at Race. He knew Jack was right. He was terrified of anything like what happened a few days ago happening again, but if that meant he would sacrifice their potential relationship out of fear, then it wasn't worth it. He was Spot Conlon, the king of Brooklyn that terrified kids of all ages across the city and he would not let whatever homophobes that might think differently keep him from being with the boy he loved. He would do any and everything to keep them safe, but he wasn't going to let that keep them apart, as cheesy as he knew that sounded. 

Spot felt his heart swell as Jack stood, retreating to pick up the trash left behind and Race began to stir. A quiet murmur escaped his lips as he grabbed onto Spot's jacket, pulling himself closer as he looked up at the other boy. 

"Mornin', sleeping beauty," Spot said with casual affection in his tone. "Can we talk 'bout somethin'?"

Jack paused at the fire escape as he watched their exchange before smiling and heading downstairs. 

Race nodded and sat up so they could properly face each other. Spot took a deep breath before he began. 

"We was seventeen when I realized I liked you's," he started, immediately earning a rosy-cheeked grin from Race. "I realized how bad 't was when I saw the headline that everyone in Brooklyn was celebratin' one day. It was about a man n' his boyfriend who was killed by the bulls who broke into their own home jus' to soak 'em. Just 'cause they was gay, Tony! I was terrified, I avoided you's for at least a week before I jus' got over myself and told myself I'd ignore anything I felt for you's and moved on."

"I knew I liked you the day of the rally back when we was sixteen. You's had all your kids behind you and you was so ready to back us up. It was really the first time we was together around anyone else. Before that we was jus' friends that would talk on the way to the Sheepshead and I jus' never realized how happy you's made me," Race countered, both boys a blushing, blubbering mess. 

"I don't wanna' be afraid to be with you's, Tony," Spot blurted.

Race couldn't help the smile taking over his face as he leaned in and pressed their lips together once more. This time was so much more gentle than their first and neither of them could stop smiling. 

"Be my boyfriend?" Race mumbled against Spot's lips, both of them nearly giving up on trying to stop smiling. 

"If you really want me, I'm yours."

"There's no one I'd rather be with than you, Spotty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks in advance to anyone that read/gave kudos/commented! it means so much! 
> 
> merry christmas to anyone that celebrated! im so glad that my finals are finally over for the semester so im hoping i'll be able to post a lot more while i'm on my break! i currently have one very long chapter already written (chapter 5 or 6 i believe) and my goal is to have everything up to then written and posted by the end of my break!
> 
> if you have any requests/ideas for this fic, feel free to comment them or message me on tumblr on my main @gaytreebros or my new newsies blog @tony-higgins ! ! !


	4. 4 - do you really think we’re bad people?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok this is a big one! i've been working on this for ages and im pretty sure this is going to be the finale of this little mini-series, so enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a doozy! i've been working on this for a while and it's over 5,000 words so let's hope it's good lmao i don't proofread....

After that night Spot Conlon and Racetrack Higgins dated in secret for nearly two months, Spot sneaking out of Brooklyn to meet Race nearly every time they saw each other. The Manhattan boys knew the truth about them after a while, much to the surprise of some older boys that had no idea that they even knew each other before that one night, and a surprise to some of the younger boys who were scared out of their wits of Spot Conlon even setting foot in the house, let alone dating one of Manhattan’s own. Most of the kids had grown up with Jack as the only legitimate role model in their lives and had been taught the just value the people that loved them and let them be who they were.

Jack taught his boys the harsh truth that maybe your blood family won’t last forever. He knew they should just hear the truth before they end up heartbroken, but it didn’t make it any less painful. Instead, he promised every single kid in the house that he’d be anything they needed to be. He would be there now and he’d be there in twenty years when everyone has long-since moved out of the house. He somehow turned these young children more accepting than any adult simply by making them value their newfound family, no matter what their differences were.

It was the 1890s, people of all ages would turn up their noses at girls wearing pants, or people of different ethnicities being friends, or even so much as friends of the same sex sitting too close to each other for their liking. Jack was somehow able to make every kid that moved into the house just ignore it all.

Spot was jealous, to say the least. Not that he’d ever let Jack or anyone else know, but he wished he had that sort of emotional relationship with his newsies that Jack did. Sure, his kids would be right there to back him up in a fight, or they’d all proudly stand up to the other boroughs, or even to strangers who messed with one of their own, but they weren’t the same sort of family that Manhattan was. He had a few kids he could trust, some that actually knew where he snuck out to most days of the week. None of them ever confronted him about their suspicions, likely out of fear, but he trusted them enough to tell them he was going to Manhattan to visit the boys over there, or more accurately, one boy in particular.

Before they were anything more, Race would almost exclusively come to visit Spot in Brooklyn, rather than the other way around simply because they liked to cause trouble late at night when no one was around to notice. They would spend hours just running around the city together, laughing way too loud for such an ungodly hour, and simply just enjoying each other’s company. Hardly anyone in Manhattan ever noticed Race had left, or at least not until he would come back at two or three in the morning, to which everyone would be too tired to bother confronting him.

Spot, however, was practically free to do as he pleased. If he was going to sneak over to Manhattan, no one would dare to question it.

After they got together, the spring weather meant it wasn’t too cold down by the water. One strangely-clear night, Spot dragged the boy down under the Brooklyn bridge, right at the base, to this spot by the docks he liked to visit sometimes and they spent the whole night there. At first, they just sat together in silence, both just admiring the reflection of the night sky on the water, but Spot took one look to his left at Race’s face softly lit by the moonlight, and he was mad.

“Why is this wrong?” He grumbled just loud enough for the other boy to hear. He watched Race’s expression turn from a content placidness to nervous confusion.

“W-what?”

Spot ran his hands through his hair as he folded his legs in front of him, taking Race’s hand and holding it so that he could trace the lines of his fingers as spoke.

“I just don’ get why we’s not s’pposed to be like this, ya’ know? Like, who’s idea was ‘t to tell people they’d can’t be lovin’ certain people? Why’s it th’t some people jus’ don’t get ta’ be loved? It’s fucked up, Racer,” Spot ranted, his face flushing red with frustration as he leaned into the taller boy beside him.

Race could feel his heart sink as he wrapped his arms around Spot carefully, kissing his head and rubbing his back with soft circles.

“I know, Spotty, t’s bullshit, but we’s still together, huh? We ain’t lettin’ anybody stop what we’s got goin’ on b’tween us and that’s all that matters,” Race countered, partly trying to convince himself too. “We’s doin’ a scary thing right now, but there ain’t nothin’ wrong with it. We ain’t hurtin’ anyone and if anyone wants to mess wit’ us, we know we’s can hold our own.”

Spot chuckled and pulled Race closer to him, kissing his exposed collarbone before leaning into the crook of his neck and letting his eyes fall closed. He watched their hands resting on his legs and for once he wasn’t too worried.

“I love you,” he whispered, still watching their hands. He could feel Race’s breath hitch as he squeezed Spot’s hand tighter.

“You know’s I love you too, Spotty,” Race whispered back resting head on Spot’s and the two were able to sleep comfortably and soundly for the first time in years wrapped in each other’s arms.

It wasn’t until the early the next morning as the echoing footsteps of the Brooklyn newsies selling on the bridge woke the boys abruptly. Panic instantly surged through Spot’s veins as he dragged Race to his feet urging him to run as the early morning dock workers neared their hiding place.

He pulled the two of them against the base of the bridge, Spot clutching onto his boyfriend as he shushed him hastily. Spot’s heart was beating out of his chest and he tried his best to form coherent sentences.

“You-you have ta’…,” Spot whispered as steadily as he could, gesturing for Race to leave through the docks. “Tony, you’s gotta get out’a here.”

Race just took a deep breath, meekly releasing Spot’s hand and turning to the docks.

“And where’re you’s gonna go?” Spot just shook his head at Race’s question, urging him towards the docks as more workers began their morning shifts, nearly in range to see the two boys under the bridge.

“I’s gonna wait a lil’ and then go right after you’s, don’t worry ‘bout me, jus’ make sure you get home safe, alright? I’s bein’ serious, nobody can know ‘bout this or things’ll get messy real fast. Promise me, Tony, I can’t let anythin’ happen to you’s again,” Spot looked up at Race with the rawest form of terror in his eyes and Race just pressed a kiss to his forehead and headed out.

“I promise,” Race whispered and in a flash he was gone. The second he stepped out onto the dock, the crowd of workers looked at him all confused, but he just jogged out of the docks until he reached the streets. He was alone in Brooklyn and at any other time that would’ve never been a problem, but his chest felt heavy and his eyes were watering and he barely even knew why. Maybe it was something to do with their conversation the night before and how that morning had just proved everything that was so wrong with their world, but there was nothing they could do. They had made a mistake, and a very stupid one at that, but if they played their cards right then they would be okay.

And Race always played his cards right.

So when he reached the road he looked around at all the Brooklyn newsies busy selling to the morning rush and knew there was no way he’d have a chance. He turned to the bridge and took off running for Manhattan. He had a feeling he’d still have time to catch Jack at his apartment or something, but if not he knew he’d be able to find someone to talk to. He just needed to tell someone.

Most of the ex-newsies he grew up with knew about his relationship. He knew there wouldn’t be a problem when he told them, but he was just glad that he had people he could talk to. It didn’t take long to get to Jack’s apartment, but he knocked a bit on his door before giving up and moving on to the next closest friend. Jack and Crutchie lived together so he figured if one of them wasn’t home then neither was the other so he could either go check Davey’s apartment a block away or go to Katherine’s in the opposite direction. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Kath in ages so he went for the latter and began his jog over to her apartment. Though he hadn’t taken it in months, the path was still familiar and Race arrived at her doorstep faster than he expected.

He knocked on the door a much more reasonable amount of times and after a minute or so, Katherine swung open the door and grinned at him.

“Mornin’ Racetrack!” She pulled him in for a quick hug as she spoke in her always-cheerful voice. That helped a little. “What can I do for you?”

He blushed nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Well, I know’s it’s been a while, but kinda a lot’s been happenin’ the past few months. Could we maybe jus’ talk for a while?” His shy request was immediately accepted by Katherine as she led him inside and closed the door. The two sat on the sofa and Race ran his hands through his hair over and over before sighing and beginning.

“Race, you know whatever it is, you can talk about it. I promise I’m just here to listen, you can trust me,” Kath reassured, placing her hand on his shoulder as he nodded.

“Okay, well you’s might’a been guessin’ it already, but I’m gay Kath,” he spoke nervously, not meeting her eyes.

Katherine just took his hands in hers and gave them a comforting squeeze.

“I’m really proud of you, Race. For real, you know I love you, all of you guys, and none of this is going to change that.”  
  
Race smiled softly and nodded, just barely looking up.

“That’s not all, though. Me an’ Spot Conlon…we’s been datin’ for a coulple’a months now,” he practically whispered as if just saying his name would somehow get them in trouble. In that moment Spot re-entered his head and the panic settled back in. Where was he? Did he make it back okay? Did anyone see them? God, he could barely even tell how heavy his breathing was until Katherine scooted closer on the sofa and put her hands on his arms and he finally looked up at her with watering eyes.

“Y-you and Spot Conlon? From Brooklyn?” He nodded and Kath smiled sweetly.

“B-but we’s had a b-bit of a problem this mornin’, and…and now I don’ know if we’s gonna’ be together afta’ this, Kath,” he stammered, trying so hard to keep the tears from falling. “Last night, we was sitting under the bridge in Brooklyn and I guess we’s must’a jus’ fell asleep because the next thing I know, there’s people comin’ and Spot’s tellin’ me ta’ run and I just…”

Tears fell from the corners of his pale blue eyes and he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Why’s this gotta’ be so hard? Why can’t we jus’ be happy an’ safe like all the other couples? It ain't fair Kathy! We’s not hurtin’ nobody!” Race was practically sobbing as Katherine held him tightly and rubbed along his back, tracing along his spine and just letting him get everything out before he was outside where someone could see.

It really was bullshit. She understood why some people weren’t okay with it, religion was really important to people and if they believed that things like homosexuality weren’t okay because it interfered with their religion, she understood that. The problem was that the people who didn’t agree with it had no right to force their beliefs on the people who didn’t have a problem with it. They were entitled to their own beliefs the same as anyone else, but if gay and lesbian people weren’t legitimately hurting them, then there was no reason why they shouldn’t be treated as equals. New York wasn’t even as bad as some other places, and they were lucky in that sense, but for the people actually affected, living like this was practically hell. She could vividly remember a few months after she and Jack had broken up, obviously still deciding to remain friends as they had always been, when he told her that he had a crush on his best friend. She could remember him more scared than she’d ever wanted to see, but she would always remember the smile on his face a few weeks later when he and Crutchie visited her apartment and told her the good news. Seeing it happen all over again for Race was tough. Race wasn’t a quiet, simple person like Jack and Crutchie were. He wasn’t the type to be comfortable with staying inside whenever they were together, and he sure as hell wasn’t the type to be able to hold back whenever they went anywhere together. He wore his heart on his sleeve everywhere they went and anyone that knew him could see that, but now there was no way he’d be able to live like that anymore. She didn’t know much about Spot, but from what she remembered back during the strike and what she’d heard from stories, he was tough. Real tough, and even if nine times out of ten he’d be able to protect the two of them if anything happened, she knew it wouldn’t be enough forever. Race was terrified and rightfully so because he knew all this and he knew whether he was right or wrong that there wasn’t much they could do about it now. Big steps were being made in New York, they had an actual gay bar in Manhattan, and there was talk of a sort of parade to celebrate pride one day, but it just seemed to backfire every time progress was about to be made. That night he and some of the boys went to that bar was one of the most terrifying nights of his life and if he could go back and make them all not go, he would, even if it ultimately led to him and Spot finally getting together. Places of progress simply became a hunting ground for people to attack them and take back everything they had so briefly gained. Katherine hardly knew her place in this big mess, but she knew she’d stand by her friends, every single one of them if they ever needed it.

“Race, you know there’s nothing you could ever do or say that would change anything between me or any of your friends. I mean it, we love you and we’re here to support you. It seems like you guys are fine this time, but you know I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t tell you to be more careful next time,” Kath teased and Race chuckled, finally loosening up a little. She hated seeing him so sad.

“Yeah, yeah, you’s the mom friend, you’s gotta’ live up to ya’ rep’,” Race teased, confirming Katherine’s efforts to distract him from the situation were working.

She smiled at him and it seemed like they could both finally relax a little more.

“Well, I approve as long as he makes you happy, Race,” Katherine spoke casually, reaching for a book on the coffee table before looking up at Race and the massive smile that filled his face.

“Y-yeah he’s…he’s the best, really. It’s pro’lly stupid, but I’s never been this happy in my life,” Race said shyly as his cheeks glowed pink and his grin widened somehow.

Katherine tossed her book back down as quickly as she had picked it up and folded her legs on the sofa in front of her and turned to Race.

“Tell me about him then. Seriously, I’ve only met the guy a couple of times and that was ages ago. Tell me your favorite things, whatever comes to mind.”

He looked so fucking happy. It was the polar opposite of the terrified boy that walked into her apartment. _This_ was the boy they knew and loved.

“Oh, well he don’t get to come over at night much, with my classes n’ all, but sometimes he’ll come over in the mornin’ jus’ to climb in bed before I wake up. It ain't much, but it’s jus’ nice ’n all. He don’t ever talk about it either, as stubborn as he is, but he’s a real sweetheart. Don’t ever let anyone know I’s sayin’ that though, or he’s gonna’ have my head,” Race beamed, chuckling to himself the whole time. “Only a few a’ the guys I used ta’ sell wit’ know, but we’s keepin’ it a secret as far as Brooklyn’s concerned.”

Katherine nodded. It made sense, besides, she knew how Jack’s boys were and how different they were from all the Brooklyn kids. It was a fair concern, but she could see how much it hurt Race.  
  
“I jus’ wish we could tell ‘em, ya’ know? I know this ’s stupid, but I’s been thinkin’ and even if he don’t mean it, it jus’ feels like Spot’s ashamed a’ me. I get that we can’t go ‘round tellin’ everybody we know’s, but them boys is his family too jus’ like you’s and the guys is ta’ me,” as he spoke a nervous smile replaced his genuine one, but he brushed it off before Kath could comment. “But believe me, I’s not gonna’ be tellin’ him to come out ta’ them. He can do what he wants, and besides, them Brooklyn kids are _big_ , Kathy. Spot’s a tiny guy, but all a’ them Brooklyn kids could pro’lly snap me in half wit’ one hand.”

They both laughed as the continued the conversation casually. Maybe they wouldn’t tell the Brooklyn kids now, but eventually they would, he just knew it.

That day came about three months later. It was the dead of winter in the middle of January and Race had spent the night before at Spot’s finally voicing what he told Katherine all that time ago. Spot felt horrible because the second he said it, everything his boyfriend was saying made perfect sense. They spent all of their time in Manhattan if they weren’t at Spot’s apartment and even then, Race had to make up stories every time a Brooklyn newsies recognized him and asked what he was doing back in Brooklyn. To them, it had been ages since Race stopped selling at the Sheepshead and any reason for him to be back in Brooklyn was suspicious. Still, he did what had to do, telling the kids he was buying cigars from a guy in Brooklyn and they moved on.  
  
Spot, however, was done with this. It was as if he had been living with their relationship the way it was for so long that he hardly even noticed the things they were doing anymore. He grabbed Race by the hand and they were out the door and on the street in minutes. Knowing his place, Spot let go of his hand once they exited the apartment building, but they still jogged side by side on the way back to the lodging house. Like Jack and the rest of their friends, Spot still visited the newsies left at the house whenever he could. He wasn’t their leader anymore, once he retired that honor went to Smalls, his second-in-command for as long as he could remember, but the kids that knew him still acted as if he was in charge of them whenever he was there. Besides, he was the first newsie in Brooklyn to even step down from the throne voluntarily. Usually, the rules were that if you challenged and beat the current king, the throne was yours, but no one ever dared to fight Spot Conlon, and for all the years that he stayed, he never once wavered from his place until he stepped down and passed on the baton.

“Hey, Conlon’s back!” A tall boy with long black hair opened the door and grinned slyly at Race when he let them in. “And it seems he’s got a friend.”

Newsies of all ages flocked to the two boys, but Spot immediately dismissed any questions, leading Race into their common room and asking Smalls to wrangle all of the newsies that had ever worked while he was king into the room. While she did so, he made small talk with the kids, some younger newsies even chatting with Race and asking him questions left and right.

“Ain’t you’s from Manhattan?”  
  
“What’re ya’ doin’ in Brooklyn, this ain’t ya’ turf!”

Race just chuckled and explained.

“Well, ya’ see, me n’ Spot, we had a deal back then. We’s best pals after all,” he said, dropping tiny jaws. “He used ta’ let me sell at the Sheepshead in exchange for a portion a’ the winnin’s from my bets.”

The kids were in awe of Race, sitting crowded around him with wide eyes as they just continued asking him about how he could possibly spend so much time with Spot without getting soaked.

“Nah, Spot would never hurt me, he knows I’d jus’ ditch his sorry ass and then he’d be all sad,” he joked, nudging Spot beside him who scoffed.

Smalls came rushing into the room, eager to hear what brought Spot Conlon back home, and Race looked over at Spot reassuringly as he carefully put his arm around the other boy’s back as he stood. Race sat on a small bench being Spot as the shorter boy stood before the crowd of kids, addressing them all.

“Now I’s gonna’ hope all a’ you’s know who I am,” he began, smirking at the eager nods from every newsie in the room. “Well, then you’s gonna’ know I ain’t kiddin’ about what I’m sayin’, so’s you better listen carefully.”

“Jack Kelly, the old leader a’ the ‘Hattan newsies used ta’ lead his boys pretty different than I used ta’ lead mine, but there was always one thing I thought he got right. Kelly, well, he taught his boys to accept each otha’ no matter what. They’s got kids a’ all types an’ not a single one a’ them cares. I’d like ta’ think we’s the same, but we ain’t. Here’s why. Jack Kelly, well, he’s got a boyfriend. That’s right, and no there ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ him and none a’ those boys could care less, ‘cause he’s still the same guy they’s always known an’ it don’t matter.”

Race was terrified watching him and hanging onto every word. He could bring himself to look at the kids’ faces. Everything sort of stopped when Spot looked back at him and held out his hand. Race stared for a second before he took it graciously and stood beside his boyfriend.

“Well, the reason we’s here today is because I’s jus’ like Jack,” he paused as a few uncomfortable gasps echoed through the room. Race squeezed his hand gently and Spot did the same, gripping tightly as if he needed it to even continue. “An’ this guy ‘ere, is Racetrack Higgins. He’s from ‘Hattan, but we’s always treated him as one a’ our own an’ that better not change because, well, I dunno’ how better to say this other than sayin’ I love him.”

Race thought his heart was about to burst right out of his chest. It was beating so fast you’d think he was terrified, and maybe he was, but he couldn’t believe he ever that Spot had feelings for him. Back before they ever got together, the idea of anything more than a one-sided crush was practically impossible in his mind, but now here he was listening to his boyfriend tell the people he’s known all his life that he loves him.

“Race is my boyfriend an’ I know some a’ you’s gonna’ have a problem with that, but we’s happy and we’s not hurtin’ any a’ you’s, so maybe you’s gonna’ see us around Brooklyn together, but ‘sides that, we’s out a’ your lives for good and we’s not gonna’ bother any a’ you’s wit’ our lives ever again,” Spot finished and the room went silent. The youngest kids in front simply just stood up and went back to playing around with each other as if nothing happened. It meant nothing to them and in their young minds, there was nothing wrong with it. The kids seemed to get older the farther away they were, but until one buy spoke up, they were all just silent.

“So you’s some kinda fag now?” Spot practically whipped his head around to see one of the older boys stepping towards them, his arms folded over his chest threateningly.

“Hey, what the hell’s your problem?” Race stepped forward, glaring at the boy who was barely taller than he was and about twice as broad as Race’s skinny figure. He didn’t care, he’d stand up to anyone.

The boy chuckled sarcastically and moved his attention to Race, stepping closer to him.  
  
“ _My_ problem is that _you’s_ got a problem. I don’ care who ya’ lil’ boyfriend is, I ain’t gonna let a coupl’a fags run free through my city,” he threatened, his voice getting louder and louder. He gripped the front of Race’s shirt and stared down at him as Race tried as hard as he could to stand his ground.

“Let go a’ him! He ain’t done nothin’ to you’s! If you’s got a problem wit’ this, take it up wit’ me, but leave him outta’ this!” Spot took the boy by the shoulders, dragging him away as Race staggered back, standing up against the wall and staring wide-eyed, unable to look away. “Bash, you’s better calm down, we’s gonna leave, but you’d gotta calm down before you do somethin’ you regret.”

The guy, Bash apparently, looked around at the crowd of kids, now moving back in fear, but all still watching tentatively. He smirked, turning back to Spot as he made one last attempt.

“Are you’s jus’ gonna stand there while I tell ya’ the truth, or can we’s jus’ make this easier on everybody and have you two jus’ leave before I start showin’ you where you two belong,” Bash spoke, staring dead into Spot’s eyes.

Spot closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stood proudly before the boy he led to a life off the streets when he was eight years old who didn’t seem to remember who stood by him his whole life and gave him another chance.

“Marcus,” Spot started, surprising the boy with his real name, and glancing around the room with a sad hopefulness in his eyes. “D’you really think we’s bad people? Does this really change ya’ views a’ someone you’s known ya’ whole life?”

There was a heartbreaking desperation in his voice. It was like the sound of someone holding onto the very last thing they have left and begging for someone to understand. Any person in that room, no matter what they thought about the Spot and Race or about Bash, would tell you that they’d never seen anyone so heartbroken as Spot Conlon was that day.

He could’ve predicted the next words to come out of Bash’s mouth, but a part of him still held out hope. That hope disappeared the moment he spoke again.

“You’s better be gone before I finish talkin’ or else you’s gonna’ have’ta see if ya’ lil’ fairy boyfriend can carry ya’ after I’s start soakin’ that mug a you’s,” Bash hissed, Spot backing away with every word as he grabbed Race’s arm and led him out the door. Once the latter was outside he stood in the doorway looking at the kids he grew up with his whole life and then once more into the eyes of a boy he loved like a little brother until that day and felt like a knife was carving right into his back. He looked to the back of the room where Smalls still had her hands over some young kids’ eyes and tears in her eyes. He smiled sadly at her one last time and shut the door behind him.

It was something else, walking down those stairs one last time because, stubborn as ever, Spot knew he’d probably never go back. Maybe he couldn’t beat Jack Kelly this time, but they weren’t the same. By his own definition, Jack had a heart and as he proudly liked to claim, Spot didn’t. Race would counter that in a second, but he always said he was just joking. Still, maybe the Brooklyn newsies weren’t ready, and that was on him for assuming they could be, but he would’ve never known if he hadn’t tried. Yes, it hurt. Yes, he felt emptier inside than ever before, but no. He wouldn’t linger on them too long. If Bash was so against him as to do what he did, then so be it. If all his other friends didn’t think he was worth defending, then so be it.

He took that last step onto the streets of Brooklyn just like he did every day for twelve years and never looked back. Because there at the bottom stood Racetrack Higgins who was his home wherever he went and no matter how many places he once called home that he lost, he knew no matter what, this was the home he’d never lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading everybody! like always, any and all support absolutely makes my day! i love and appreciate every single one of you and if there's anything you'd like to suggest/talk about/ask, then feel free to message me on tumblr @tony-higgins!
> 
> i do have two little mini-additions to this plotline, one focused on race that will likely be up either later tonight or tomorrow because i've been working on it for ages, and then another of the same style focused on spot which i have yet to start lmao.


	5. from italy, with love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is it! my big boi! i started writing this at the same time that i started the first chapter of this fic, mainly because i wanted the first sort-of story to end up here, but i'm also going to be posting this separately because it doesn't really need to be read after the first 4 parts of this story. anyway, im super excited about this and, if anyone cares to check out the other stuff on my profile, this is the longest thing i've ever posted! it will be my SECOND 11,000+ word one-shot lmao but yeah i'm super proud of this and how it turned out, especially since i almost ended it so many times throughout, (i even accidentally deleted about 2,000 words of it one time) but i decided to keep going and i just made it longer and longer! well, i hope you guys like it and sit back and enjoy!
> 
> i hope all of the details match up with everything i wrote into the previous chapters lmao i have no clue
> 
> (warning, the word counter site i use said this should be about an hour of reading time just to let you know. also there are some italian phrases used, most of them don't need to be translated to understand it, but they will be all listed in the end notes just in case anyone's curious)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact that i had to look up for accuracy reasons: smoke detectors were invented in 1890 aka, it's totally time period-accurate for race to set off the smoke alarm making oatmeal

It was just another day to Spot Conlon. July 20th. Just another hot-as-balls day in Brooklyn that made him wish he and his boys could afford a pair of shorts.

The problem was that July 20th wasn’t just another day to Racetrack Higgins. Or should he say, _Antonio_.

July 20th was the day Antonio Higgins first came to Manhattan, running off the docks faster than anything fourteen-year-old Jack Kelly had ever seen. He had been selling at the docks for years and never in his life had he seen a kid like that. His wild blonde curls were flopping in the wind as a boy no older than twelve came sprinting off a boat with nothing but a small suitcase in hand.

“Hey! Kid!” Jack called out after the boy as he skidded to a halt, nervously turning around. His bright blue eyes were wide and his freckles cheeks went red in an instant. “Where ‘re ya’ running off to?”

The kid looked as if he couldn’t come up with a single word to say as his lip trembled and his eyes wandered every which way.

“I-I d-don’t know,” he stuttered out, a small tear rolling down his cheek. Jack immediately dropped his remaining stack of papes on the docks and raced to the kid’s side, crouching down to see his face.

“Hey, kiddo. It’s okay, c’mere. S’okay, just come wit’ me,” Jack spoke, taking the kid’s hand as he picked his stack of papes off the ground and led the kid back towards the Manhattan lodging house.

“Ya’ got any parents, kid?” Jack really didn’t want to push him, but the last thing he wanted to do was take some lost kid away from a family that loved him.

But the boy just shrugged. He didn’t know.

Jack felt his heart sink to his stomach.

“You sure kid? Were they on the boat wit’ ya’?”

He just shook his head and wiped away his tears with his free hand.

Jack just led the kid inside, taking his suitcase for him as he led him upstairs to an empty room full of beds. The boy looked so scared and within moments of entering the room full of bunk beds, he fell back behind Jack, terrified of the prospect of meeting all of these other kids.

“Now, this ‘s where yous’ can stay if you want. I know there’s lots’a other boys ‘ere, but don’t worry, they’s all got no families either ‘n they’s gonna be good t’ya’, I promise.”

From that day forward Antonio Higgins lived with those boys and they became his new home. After their first encounter, Jack gave him his nickname, Racetrack, and he was the only one Race ever told his story to.

He was eleven years old when his parents told him they were moving to the United States. He had grown up in Naples, Italy, the middle of seven siblings by a few years and loved them more than anything in the world. He had a good education. He was athletic, the fastest runner for miles around, and he was one of the sweetest kids you’d ever meet.

Antonio Higgins was supposed to be the last child. The youngest of his older siblings, his sister Marcella, was already sixteen and had a steady job, his older brother after her was engaged to be married soon, and his oldest sister had a baby on the way. He wasn’t anything like them.

His younger siblings were twins, both slightly unplanned and much younger than he was. They were almost six, about half his age, and they still weren’t the youngest. His youngest brother was only two and had been adopted into their family after a tragedy left his aunt and uncle dead and their only son an orphan.

He was the odd one out, but he never felt like it much until one day his parents decided they wanted to move.

Moving to the United States was common, it seemed like everyone knew someone who had moved there, but as he got older and older, he couldn’t imagine it ever happening to him. Until his mom and dad took their entire family to the immigration agency by surprise.

_“I’m sorry, but you must have a valid reason for travel to apply for this visa.”_

_“No, there isn’t any other way.”_

_“Are you sure that all of you want to move?”_

_“Well, your husband and oldest children are required to stay here for business.”_

_“Your children must be able to speak English if they are to attend school in America. Oh, only one of them?”_

_“In that case, your son seems eligible for an academic visa. Your wife could accompany him, but all of your other children would have to stay until they learn to speak English.”_

_“Okay, well if you’re sure, we have a ship traveling in a month and I can get him a ticket. Wonderful.”_

No. It was everything but wonderful. He could barely breathe as he walked alongside his family all the way home in complete silence. The moment they reached their home, he ran right into the bedroom he shared with his younger brother and curled up in the corner, unable to stop the tears from falling. It took a few minutes before he heard the soft knocking on the door. His mother timidly opened the door, a sad smile on her lips.

“Ah, _bambino_ , come here,” she spoke in the sweet way she always did and Tony did as he was told, running up to his mother and hugging her tightly around the waist. “ _‘Tonio_ , you know why we have to do this, don’t you?”

He was terrified but nodded anyway. Yes, he knew why, but that didn’t mean he understood.

“Yes mama.”

“Okay, _amore mio_ , you know your papa and I never want to leave you, _voglio stare sempre con te_.” Tears filled her eyes as she held her son to her chest and broke her promise to always be there for him.

“Oh my darling, everything is going to be okay. You’ll get to live in New York! In America! And I bet you’ll find a great place to stay with someone to take care of you and you’ll go to school! Oh, Antonio, you’re going to love it!”

He couldn’t say no. He couldn’t tell his mother how badly he just wanted to stay there, in Italy, with his family. He couldn’t tell her how scared he was of the ocean and having to travel for days just to get there. He couldn’t tell her that he never wanted to go to New York. That cities were terrifying and there was nowhere for him to go running.

So he kept his mouth shut and, when the day came that he would board a boat and travel to New York City, he packed his trunk in silence and left. Everyone cried when they sent him off. Everyone but him. He had cried enough for two lifetimes by then.

And that was how he ended up in New York City, all alone, afraid, and without a family.

It took months for him to tell Jack, the one person he trusted more than anyone else in the world. He was the only one who never lied to him.

His mother’s words echoed through his head.

_“You’ll find a great place to stay with someone to take care of you and you’ll go back to school!”_

She lied.

His father had told him he’d have a better life in America. He told him that they wanted him to have the best life he could. He didn’t want to be living his parents’ dream. He wanted his own dream, but his father said it was an honor. He lied.

His older siblings told him he was lucky to be going. That they wished they could be in his place. That they loved him anyway, even though he was leaving them. They lied.

His younger siblings told him they would miss him. They wouldn’t, they were too young. In a few years time they’d have to ask mama and papa to remind them what his name was. They lied too.

So he lived with Jack Kelly and his boys. He became a newsie, one of the best ones they’d ever had. He started selling at the Sheepshead; it was Brooklyn turf, but the boys there seemed to like him.

He did grow up to enjoy it there. Manhattan eventually felt like more of a home than Italy. Sure, he still spoke Italian around the house for fun or to tease the other boys without them knowing, but before long his accent faded into that of a New Yorker. He wasn’t the same boy he was before.

If you asked Jack Kelly what he thought of Racetrack Higgins he’d tell you he was the strongest kid he’d ever known. He’d tell you that despite his lanky build and lack of physicality, he was stronger than any of his other boys. That he once ran across Brooklyn all the way back to Manhattan in under fifteen minutes just because he heard some guys talking about how they could mess with the boys at the lodging house. That he was incredibly smart, having received more education than most of the boys he used to stay with, and would spend his free time teaching them anything he could. He would even teach the boys some of his favorite Italian words and phrases if they were interested.

Besides that, he kept almost entirely to himself in terms of information. He would hide behind jokes and teasing insults to the point where no one really knew anything about him. For months and years he contemplated writing to his family, even just to check in and tell them how much his life had changed. But mail was expensive and when food is never a sure thing, there was no room for extra spending. Sometimes he wondered if it would be worth it to sell one of his cigars. His older brother Dante had slipped them into his bag when he left and Race treasured them with everything he had. He always had one in his mouth or in his pocket, never actually lighting them for the sake of wanting to keep them forever. Few people actually noticed that he never actually smoked, surprisingly enough.

It didn’t take long before he scrapped that idea. Not long after, he gave up on writing to them, but a part of him still wondered.

So when he applied for a place at the culinary school just outside the city, he never expected to get in. It was sort of a gag, a funny little “what if” plan just to see what would happen. He didn’t tell hardly anyone. Jack was an obvious choice, seeing as how he was the closest thing to family Race had ever known in New York, but he did make an effort to casually mention it to Spot beforehand. He told him as if it meant nothing because, in terms of Race’s personal evaluation of self-worth, there was no way they would ever want someone like him.

But Jack took him to apply. He dropped his application into the admissions office at the school and still had time for a days work.

Just a few days later he received a letter asking him to formally apply by actually demonstrating some of his skills for an admissions judge. No one knew he went early one morning before anyone else was awake, cooked for the small group of people, and went back before anyone even noticed he was gone.

It was nearly two weeks later before anything showed up on the doorstep of the Manhattan lodging house. Race had stayed in Brooklyn the previous night, having visited Spot and been convinced not to walk all the way back to Manhattan in the middle of the night. That being said, he arrived back in Manhattan just before noon and opened the door to a room full of boys crowding around the table in the common room.

The moment Racetrack Higgins entered the room, dozens of kids of all ages ran to him, spurring congratulations. He had no idea what was going on, and albeit wanted to scream with overwhelming anxiety, until he looked up and there was Jack. His signature smirk was different, this one much more meaningful, and he held a piece of paper high up in the air.

“You son of a bitch,” Jack mused, handing over the letter as Race took it with shanking hands. His words were nothing but a proud remark as he struggled to understand how one of his own boys was able to keep such a talent a secret for so long. He grinned with his signature crooked smile before pulling the smaller boy into a hug.

Race felt like he was walking through a dream. He held his arms around Jack’s neck, lingering on the feeling of family and how, at that point in his life, Jack was the closest thing to a real brother

“They’d be so proud a’ yous’, Antonio,” Jack whispered, his rough voice a sort of anchor as Race attempted to actually process what he had just done.

He just applied to culinary school on a whim simply because he saw a flyer for the school on his way to the Sheepshead one day. He snuck over to the edge of Manhattan one morning and made the one thing his mother would always cook for him when he was sad. It had been years since he’d been able to cook in a proper kitchen and he smiled throughout. It was just something he always loved and he never realized how much he missed it until he finally got the chance to do it again.

It didn’t take long for Race to explain to everyone what had happened, but he was well past eighteen and was really just staying with the newsies because he liked their company. He’d been working night shifts as a busboy at a local diner and probably could afford an apartment, but he preferred to use whatever extra spending money for the things he knew those boys needed. For one thing, actual food. It wasn’t a problem, he got to cook every once in a while when he had the night off from work and the kids all looked heaps healthier than he and his friends had back when they were younger.

But that changed the minute he read that letter. It meant he wasn’t destined to mop up spilled milkshakes and refill napkin racks forever and that maybe coming to New York all those years ago had done more good than bad. He made sure to hug each and every one of those kids before he left for work.

The thing was, he was far too excited to bus tables right now. He politely quit his job, thanking the nice elderly couple who owned it for hiring him despite his lack of experience and generally frowned upon lifestyle as he left and promising to visit. Next up was Brooklyn. He made it to the bridge in another ten minutes at a light jog and knocked at Spot Conlon’s apartment door within fifteen.

As if Race’s hair wasn’t already a mess from running, Spot opened the door so fiercely that a gust of wind tossed his curls across his face once more.

“Race? ‘The hell are you doin’ here?” Spot’s voice was groggy and tired and he yawned as he opened the door to let Race in.

“Sean I did it,” Race spoke, blurting the words out as Spot froze in his tracks. He turned slowly as he faced the other, a confused look on his face. “I got in.”

Race held out the letter as Spot took it gingerly, reading over the words carefully as a smile filled his entire face. To say that seeing Spot smile like that was rare was an understatement. Race absolutely adored his genuine smile and couldn’t help grinning back.

“Tony, I-,” Spot eventually starts, attempting to form words before he gave up and just held the other tight, barely lifting his legs off the ground as Race squealed in surprise. Spot spun him in unbalanced circles around his living room they laughed openly, each savoring their best friend’s happiness. When Spot eventually let go, they wre both dizzy and delusional, but they can’t stop smiling and to Race it meant the world just to see him smile.

He was happier than he’d ever been and he hoped it was clear.

That day marked one of the greatest things that had ever happened to Racetrack Higgins. A miracle, he would tell you, but he never amounted it to his own skill. He would tell you he couldn’t believe he’d ever been accepted, as if he didn’t believe he should’ve been, but he was up at the ass-crack of dawn every morning to practice his recipes and dropping off dishes left and right at all his friends’ apartments. Some days Spot would get up for work and see an entire meal sitting in the kitchen waiting for him from his best friend. Occasionally his old friends, like Romeo who eventually took over for Jack with the Manhattan newsies, would see enough food sitting at the lodging house to feed the kids for days. Full-blown cakes would be brought to every friend’s birthday and huge meals were present for every celebration. He really didn’t realize just how much of it came from his family until one night.

He had a big test the night before Christmas Eve and had been studying one recipe for weeks until the day finally came when he would have to make it in front of his professors and a panel of critics. Race had been up all night and had at least fifteen servings of boeuf bourguignon left around his apartment when he came home afterwards. Each once was plated with a different design idea and with varying portions, but every single one was the exact same meal over and over again and the whole place smelled heavenly. By then, his friends were well-aware of his pursuits, having all received random meals many times so far, and Spot had actually organized a little surprise for him. He gathered all of their friends and had planned a surprise party of-sorts to celebrate him undoubtedly passing his first semester of culinary school, but the second they showed up at Race’s apartment, he opened the door and every single one of them reacted differently to the smell that practically slapped them in the face.

Race was a mess, his blonde hair was tied back from his face with a bandana for a headband and there was sauce and spices all over his face. The clothes he’d been wearing for almost thirty-six hours were sitting in the kitchen drenched in broth and covered in remnants of everything he had made and his bare feet looked like they were about to fall off. Luckily he hadn’t changed out of the clothes he actually wore to the test, not that it made the rest of him look much better.

“Racer, holy hell, what happened ta’ you’s?” Spot asked, teasingly looking him up and down with a chuckle. He blushed embarrassingly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I, uh…I’s got a lot a’ leftover food so you’s all better start eatin’,” he joked, letting his friends all inside who, even more-so as they cautiously entered, were practically choking on the smell of boeuf bourguignon.

“Racer, this can’t possibly be good for ya’, what the hell’s been goin’ on in ‘ere?” Jack teased, sliding into a seat at the table and popping some potatoes into his mouth.

Race had retreated back into the kitchen, donning his food-stained apron once again, and continued stirring a saucepan on the stove. He groaned and turned the burner off, taking the sauce and dressing yet another plate of boeuf bourguignon.

“I’ had a test this mornin’, you knew that,” he retorted, going to the fridge to grab more of the same ingredients again.

“Anthony Higgins I swear if ya’ don’t stop making’ whatever the hell this delicious shit is, I’s gonna drag ya’ out’a this kitchen and ya’ ain’t comin’ back until it’s time for breakfast t’morrow,” Spot threatened, swallowing a bite of food alongside the others who were practically back to being starving teenagers as they ate so quickly.

Race just groaned and put the ingredients away. “You’s is right, I…really need a break,” he said with a laugh as he walked over to his friends, dramatically draping himself on Spot and Jack beside him. They laughed, but let him be and Race eventually re-situated to sit on Spot’s lap more casually.

He watched as his friends raved about his cooking, all of them acting like they hadn’t eaten in days and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Where’d ya’ learn how ta’ make this anyway?” Albert spoke up, popping another tiny potato into his mouth.

Race felt his heart sink as he tried his hardest not to let it show on his face.

“Oh, ah, my ma’ used to make it back home, but the school, they’s always givin’ me recipes for everything’,” he settled on, not revealing too much, but still telling the truth. This, however, was not enough apparently.

“Your mother used to make this? Was she a cook too?” Davey asked, apparently peaking his interest.

Race shrugged and nodded with a small smile.

“Yeah, ‘guess so. My parents had a lil’ café back home and if I wasn’t busy wit’ school n’ all that she would teach he her recipes. I’s pro’lly made this fifty times, and not just in tha’ last few hours,” he elaborated, smiling a little to himself. His friends chuckled, still trading food back and forth as Sarah spoke up from across the room.

“You keep saying ‘back home’, but isn’t that Manhattan? You still live here.”

It was an innocent question, really. To the best of any of their knowledge, mind Jack and Spot, he was Manhattan, born and bred. No one felt the need to ask further on his parents. Most of the people they knew didn’t have a family for one reason or another, but nope, the story had to come out at some point.

“Nah, all a’ you’s know I’s Italian,” he said casually, trying to hold off explaining as long as he could.

“Really? I didn’t know that, Race, that’s really cool! Were your parent’s born there?” Sarah continued, bringing to light the flaw in his plan. Sarah was a fairly new addition to their group, as were some of the others, and he never realized how little they knew.

“Oh, uh, no I’s actually from there. Like, I used’ta live there,” he elaborated. He started cleaning up the kitchen, really not wanting to look his friends in the eyes as he inevitably told them his sob story. “My family sent me ‘ere when I was eleven.”

The room was silent for a moment as everyone seemed to be trying to comprehend what he was saying. Race took a quick glance up at Jack and Spot, concerned looks in the boys’ eyes that Race just shrugged off. It was time and there was no reason why he couldn’t tell them. He had come to terms with it and he was fine.

“Did they come wit’ you’s? I mean, they’s ya’ family…,” Elmer spoke up. He was quite new too and they hadn’t really spoken much since Race moved out of the lodging house and Elmer moved in with Albert.

Race just shook his head.

“Nah, they’s weren’t allowed. Immigration’s real strict wit’ what you’s gotta do to get in. I was the only one eligible so’s I was the only one that went.”

Jack could feel his chest tightening as he listened to his friend tell the story he told him years ago and if he was planning on sharing as much as he did then, this was going to be harder than he knew Race was thinking it would be.

“Racer, you’s don’t gotta talk about it, really,” Jack blurted, catching the boy’s attention once more.

“No, ’ts fine Jackie, I’s gotta talk ‘bout it at some point. Keepin’ it in for this long pro’lly ain’t good,” Race countered, still trying to keep up a casual attitude the best he could.

“Wait, you haven’t seen your family in eight years?” Davey spoke this time, making his heart drop at the literal fact being called out for once. “I mean, I know a lot of these guys haven’t either, but most of them wouldn’t even want to if they could. Do you…do you miss them?”Race took a deep breath to some extent. His hands were shaking as he continued cleaning, but he could feel his eyes burning. He could feel the ache in his chest and the tears brimming in his eyes.

All he could do was nod as he couldn’t hold back anymore and let out the softest of sobs. In seconds he was in Spot’s arms. The rest of the group just sort of…watched. They were all ready to help in any way, but they just stood shocked at ‘The Great Spot Conlon’ even showing an ounce of human emotions.

The smaller boy just wrapped his arms around Race and didn’t move. He only spoke loud enough for the other boy to hear, but the words gave Race an ounce of hope for the first time in what felt like far too long.

“ ‘m proud a’ you’s.”

It wasn’t until just under a year later that the subject resurfaced again.

Things had changed, feelings had been revealed, and new relationships were formed where two boys never thought was possible.

Race was happy. Truly happy for once in his life, all because his best friend in the world gave him a life in New York he never believed he could have.

He had a family of the greatest friends he’d ever known, he had a job, he had his own apartment to live in, he was getting an education with the greatest opportunity he’d ever been given, and he had someone who loved him. It was almost Christmas, a holiday he hadn’t really celebrated since he was back in Italy, but one that he’d never really wanted to anyway.

Still, his friends, even Davey and Sarah who were more than excited to spend the holiday with their friends after Hanukkah was over, were eager to celebrate with the only family most of them had left. He agreed, of course, and jokingly asked if anyone wanted him to make the food for their dinner.

He was spending most of his time with his boyfriend, either spending a few nights at Spot’s apartment in Brooklyn, or the other way around at Race’s. They spent almost every minute together, mostly at home, just enjoying each other’s company, but the holiday festivities were definitely included. They discussed gifts, Spot practically pleading Race to let him get him something, despite how many times the latter said he didn’t need anything.

Spot, however, had a plan and he was going to go through with it if it killed him. Not literally, of course, but he needed to do this. He needed this because he had no way of ever doing it for himself, and never would. Race still had a chance and Spot was fully-prepared to take it. Christmas Eve was spent at Race’s apartment, being the only one with a proper dining table reasonably sized for the group. By then the group was as close as could be.

When their friends began arriving, some in pairs, some in trios, and just so many that rather than feeling stressed about the number of people around or the party turning out okay, Race just watched each person walk through the door with a smile, behind grateful for the family he found.

Each one of them meant the absolute world to him and he just loved how well they all fit in together, despite all of their differences.

Albert was Race’s best friend in Manhattan. The only one who could keep up with his quick wit and the only one willing to run with him in the mornings before the streets were too crowded for their antics. On Race’s bad days, sometimes he was the only one who could make him smile. The only one who’s jokes he couldn’t resist laughing at, which meant more than any other part of their friendship. He was a constant source of happiness wherever he went; one of the wonders of being his friend.

Elmer, as new to the group as he was, had been Race’s bunk neighbor for years back at the lodging house. He was the source of many pranks, late night chats, and just accompaniment. He’d seen more of Race’s nightmares and attacks through the years than anyone else and, well, he loved Albert so if they were happy, he was happy.

Romeo was someone he honestly never expected to love as much as he did. They were friends for years, bonding over their flirty nature and constantly teasing each other’s good looks. Race had always thought there was only one way to flirt and that was to girls, but when Specs moved into the house at fifteen, Romeo flipped that all upside down. He took an immediate liking to the boy and would flirt with his friend at any opportunity. Race always wondered if he would’ve ever let himself recognize his feelings had it not been for that boy’s casual treatment of it, like it wasn’t the disease the rest of the country seemed to think it was.

Specs was just the same. The three were close ever since he came to the house and Race really did credit them for part who he came to be. Specs was a dancer, clearly an old soul, and one of the most caring people Race had ever met. He helped him figure out who he was, swearing not to embarrass the older boy relying on the younger in his time of need. Race had always felt weak, that being emotional and caring was bad in a life like the one he lived, but the boy two years his junior responded with a laugh and told him that the only way to survive in a life like theirs was to be real. He’d always be grateful for that.

Davey was really something else. He was unlike any of the other boys he’d met in the best way possible. Davey had received an education his whole life and when he found out about Race’s teaching hobby, he was eager to help. With Race, Davey, and occasionally even his younger brother Les, they had almost every single kid in the house reading and writing within a year.

Sarah, though probably the newest addition to the group, was someone Race practically owed his life to. Not too long before Christmas, he and Spot were outside Race’s apartment on the fire escape when some cops found them and their situation a little suspicious. The forced the boys down to the streets before pinning them and attempting to get them to admit to something the only suspected. It was then that Sarah rounded the corner from the grocery market and saw her friends, Race pinned up against a wall and Spot on the ground with a policeman’s boot pressing into his back. She took action within seconds, explaining that Race was her cousin who had come to visit her and Spot for their upcoming wedding. She claimed they had never met and were simply taking some time to get to know each other. Anyone alive knew they would’ve been beat, arrested, and more than likely something much worse had she not stepped in, but she saved their asses and Race always felt like he owed her his life for that.

Katherine was practically an angel. She was someone who had no affiliation herself with any of the problems that faced her friends, but she stood barely by their sides any and every time they needed her. She was never in danger because of her sexuality, she was never discriminated against for her religion, and she was never harassed for her race, but she had seen the hurt through her friends and dedicated her time to publishing anonymous articles defending the minorities of New York and the whole country. Whether or not they brought any actual change didn’t matter to her because they finally felt like they had a voice because of her, and Katherine had a cause she believed in; standing for the people she loved.

Crutchie was really the one who changed his life more than any of the others. Being the first “openly” gay person Race had ever known, he was the one who made him feel safe. He was the one that convinced Race that, no matter what, his friends would still love him, and that his life wouldn’t just end if he admitted it to himself. When Race said the two words aloud for the first time, it was because Crutchie held his hands on his shoulders on the lodging house rooftop and told him he could do it. Race would’ve never muttered the words “I’m gay” had he not been shown the love and support he so desperately needed that night. He could honestly say he was happy with himself and his current life, and he owed the start of that to Crutchie.

Jack. The first person in the entire country to ever be kind to him. His first friend. His brother. Jack was the one who gave him a chance, a life, a family. He had the biggest heart of anyone Race had ever known. He’d been through so much on his own, but always made the time to help anyone else who needed it. There wasn’t anything in particular that he said or did, but Jack he’d take a bullet for and anything else the world could throw at him. He wanted to give back one day. To thank him for practically saving his life back all those years ago, and if things went right, maybe one day he’d be able to. He wanted more than anything just to find a way to express that everything he’d ever done for not only Race, but for every boy and girl that ever lived in that old house, was the greatest act of selfless love anyone had ever shown. He was eternally grateful just for Jack being alive. He didn’t know what he would have done had he not met that boy back then, because eight years later he still felt at home every time Jack entered the room and if that wasn’t the most valuable part of a family, then he didn’t want a family because what he had was everything he could ever want and more.

And then there was Spot. The first boy he ever loved, and hopefully his last love too. He was Race’s best friend for as long as they both could remember, but they had this dynamic that was so unique that no one ever knew what to make of it. He had only been living with the Manhattan boys for about a year when he crossed the bridge into Manhattan day and met the boy on the docks. He was taller than Race, and he would later find out that wouldn’t last long, but he was quiet and he didn’t say no when Race asked to sit with him on the docks. To Race, that was instant best friend material. It became more frequent that Race would go to the docks on the other side of the bridge every Friday and every time that curly blond head would come running across the bridge, Spot couldn’t help but smile. Race came by more often as the boys got older until eventually, Spot challenged the old leader of Brooklyn and the throne was his. The next day Race came running and Spot was waiting there for him just like he always was, but this time with a smile. That smile was reserved for Race and only Race. He told his best friend the great news and after a crushing hug broke apart, Spot declared his first order of business to be to invite Race to sell in Brooklyn. He promised he would have to move, that he could stay Manhattan if he wanted, but that he had a place to sell if he wanted to. Needless to say, Race started spending a whole lot more time in Brooklyn. Two years after that and Race was sixteen to Spot’s seventeen. He’d spent the night at Brooklyn once he finished selling because the stormy weather simply hadn’t let up. Some of the older Brooklyn boys were down in the common room with some beer they likely stole off of a delivery wagon or something, but Race was curious and, well, after winning one of the easiest poker games he’d ever played, he had a beer in his hand that was quickly drank. He wandered upstairs that night and into Spot’s bed that the boy had offered to share. It was far from the first time they had shared a bed, but the first time since Spot officially moved into the king’s suite and actually had his own room. It was the night Race realized, drowsy and with a clouded head, that he loved the slightly shorter boy with the dark brown hair and the strong arms and the smile reserved just for him. Spot was his whole life. Always had been and maybe always would be. He was his reason to keep going because no matter what, there was always another Thursday just a few days away. That every time the next day felt like a million years away, he’d just tell himself he’d be running across the bridge in no time. Spot was the thing he wanted most in his life. His childhood dream-come-true. So what if they both had issues, eventually that didn’t matter. They knew each other better than any other person alive and before long they knew all of the other’s ticks. Race had never had someone like that that paid such close attention to him before. He knew which jokes were genuine and which were to distract from his problems. Spot knew which body tremors were just antsy-ness, and which were his anxiety acting up. He knew how to tell something was wrong with just a glance and that meant so much more to Race than he’d ever be able to tell him. Race loved Spot and Spot loved him back. That was important, but the ways he showed it were the things keeping him going.

He had a family. He had plenty of people, more than he’d ever dreamed of, and all of them he loved more than the world.

So when they were all crowded around the table that night, Race took one look around the table and genuinely loved his life. He laughed along as Albert cracked a joke, rolled his eyes with Katherine as Davey and Sarah started bickering, and let himself take the compliments he was given on the food. He traded knowing glances with Elmer as he caught them playing footsie under the table, he laughed as Crutchie smeared cranberry sauce across Jack’s face, and he even had to go get his own glasses-cleaning kit when Romeo accidentally knocked Specs’s glasses off into his food. They were a happy family and this was undoubtedly the best holiday any of them had ever had. Race took Spot’s hand under the table and when the other smiled at him, he knew he truly did have everything he ever needed.

He had no idea how anything could possibly get any better, but after his friends all left that night, Spot stayed behind, the two cuddled up on the couch for ages before they both eventually fell asleep. Christmas morning came with Race waking up first, as usual, and preparing the same two cups of coffee he had gotten so accustomed to making and as he sipped his own black coffee he smiled to himself as he poured loads of sugar and cream into Spot’s so it wasn’t as strong. He thought of all of the things only they knew about each other and just how special they were together. He placed the second cup on the coffee table and curled back in beside Spot, who stirred as he did so.

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty,” Race teased and Spot turned to face him, a tired glare on his face.

“ ‘Ey tha’s my line,” he grumbled, his expression softening into a sweet smile. He pecked his boyfriend’s lips quickly before emerging from their pile of blankets.

“Wait, where’s ya’ goin’? I made you’s some coffee, asshole.”

Race sat up, facing him as Spot pulled on a pair of boots by the door. The shorter just laughed and grabbed his coat from the rack.

“Get dressed, baby. I’s got a surprise for you’s so meet me on the street when you’s done,” Spot said slyly, his cheeks pink and a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Race felt his face go hot and he smiled as Spot slipped outside.

“Spot Conlon, you’s gonna be the death a’ me, I swear,” he mumbled to himself as he headed for the bedroom to get changed. One look out the window told him it was definitely Christmas and he tugged on the warmest pair of sweatpants he had with a sweater and one of Spot’s heavy work coats over it. He found his respective pair of boots by the door and grabbed his gloves from the table by the door, heading out the door with a shivering body and a smile on his face.

It had only taken him about ten minutes as he began to walk downstairs, but the excitement was bubbling in his chest and he simply couldn’t keep the smile off his face. When he walked outside he instantly shivered, tugging the coat tighter around his body and stood against the wall of his building. He couldn’t see where Spot was, but assumed he wouldn’t be long as he just looked around the streets. They were unsurprisingly less crowded than usual, especially since it was still quite early at about ten in the morning. There were people walking their dogs, people carrying groceries from the market, and even people out buying last-minute gifts, but his attention lingered on a large group of people standing huddled together on the other side of the street. He didn’t stare too long once he heard Spot’s voice call out to him from down the sidewalk he was on. He turned and smiled as he jogged over, chuckling as he brushed the collection of snowflakes in Spot’s hair.

“You’s so cute, Spotty. I know you’s always hate it when I say it, but ’ts true n’ I ain’t gonna stop,” Race teased as he pinched Spot’s cheeks that were rosy from the cold. The latter boy scoffed as he swatted away Race’s hand, but still smiled.

“I’s gonna let you get away wit’ this just ‘cause I like ya’ an’ this ’s real important,” Spot began and Race took a quick glance around to see if anyone was watching before taking his hand. “I need ta’ say somethin’ before I do this, but you’s gotta promise ta’ wait ’til I’s done before ya’ say anythin’, okay?”

Race nodded, a little nervous, but the small smile still rested on his lips.

“You’s gotta know by now that I love you’s. I’s loved ya’ for as long as I can remember, but now that we’s, ya’ know, doin’ this I jus’ realized I love you’s even more. Las’ night when you’s were tellin’ everybody ‘bout ya’ family…I’s never been so proud, Racer. You’s the strongest person I’ve ever known, n’ that’s the truth. I remember when ya’ first told me, a lil’ while afta’ we started datin’, and I’s been tryin’ to make this happen ever since. I know’s that we’s got a family, but Race, you deserve the world n’ that includes being’ wit’ ya’ family that loves ya’ as much as the rest a’ us do. Well, maybe not as much as me, but ya’ get what I mean,” Spot ranted, each word like another surging heartbeat as Race could feel his hand tightening in Spot’s. He barely even thought about what Spot was saying as he just kept his eyes on his face and let him speak.

“Tony, I think there’s some people ‘ere you’s gonna want ta’ meet,” he continued, letting go of his hand and grabbing Race by the shoulders. Race couldn’t even think as he was faced with the other side of the street and the huddled family staring back at him. He felt Spot’s arm slide around his back as he stood still in shock. “Those people right over there, they’s ya’ family, Tony, and they’s can’t wait ta’ meet ya’.”

Race just felt his eyes start watering and his hands were shanking and before he knew it he was running into their arms like nothing ever happened. His mother. He’d recognize her anywhere.

It had been so long that he now towered over her, wrapping his arms around her as he held on tight. Her hugs were warm, and her hair was soft, and her arms felt like a realization that he was never really fine without them. He pulled away eventually, only to be pulled back in as one by one, his whole family joined the embrace like he was finally back where he used to belong. They separated after a while, tears raining down all of their cheeks, but parted by wide smiles.

“Oh, _Antonio_ , is it really you?” His mother’s voice was shaky and hopeful as she spoke, but Race simply nodded ad hugged her again. “Please, say something, darling. I need to hear your voice.”

Race chuckled but pulled out of her embrace, looking at his family before him and gesturing dramatically with his arms to the side. “Welcome to my home,” he spoke, grinning like an idiot.

Time seemed to fly by as he took a few moments with each of his parents and siblings before turning to the rest of the group.

“Well, I’s seein’ some new faces ‘round ‘ere,” he addressed the children either circling his legs or hiding behind their parents. ‘How’s about all a’ you’s introduce ya’selves?”

The kids themselves were shy, but thankfully someone took the lead.

“This is Lucca,” the younger of his older sisters spoke up, holding a baby wrapped up in her arms. She stepped forward, holding the bundle out to Race, who beamed as he held the boy.

“ _Ehilà_ ,” he cooed, rocking his arms gently. “ _Sono_ tuo _Zio Tony_.”

He pressed a kiss to the boy’s forehead as he handed him back to his sister, brushing away her tears as he did so.

“Do you go by Tony now? We can use that instead of Antonio if you’d like,” his father proposed, earning a chuckle and a shrug from Race.

“Well, most’a my friends an’ I, we’s all got crazy nicknames, so anythin’ that feels normal for ya’ is fine wit’ me,” he said with a casual fondness in his voice as he remembered the day Jack gave him his name.

“Well then, Tony, meet your nieces, Amalia and Luciana,” his older brother prompted, leading forward two little girls with matching curly brown hair. He squatted down in front of them to the best of his ability, despite the first layer of snow covering the ground. He took their hands one by one, spinning the girls and kissing their knuckles the way he always used to see his father do with his sisters. If these little girls were anything like their aunts, then they probably loved the princess tales they adored when they were young.

“ _Meraviglioso di conoscerti, mie bellissime principessine_ ,” he spoke sweetly, grinning at the giggles he earned from the girls.

“What about me?!” Race turned around to see a little boy, not much older than about eight, with his arms folded over his chest in a huff. He chuckled, holding up his hand for a high-five to the boy, who relaxed at the gesture.

“Of course, how’s could I ever forget,” he chuckled, shaking the boy’s hand with a grin as the boy stood proudly, clearly feeling very grown up for shaking hands like an adult. “Who might you be, kiddo?”

The little boy glanced up at his mom, Race’s sister and the oldest of his siblings, before turning back to Race.

Everyone around them couldn’t help but notice how the boy was practically the spitting image if his uncle. The same blonde curls Race and his sister both shared with the same bright blue eyes no one else but the two boys had.

“Antonio,” the boy said and Race could tell the moment his heart tightened and the tears filled his eyes. The boy looked worried for a moment, before Race stood up, turned to his sister, and hugged her tighter than he ever thought possible.

They stayed like that for a while before either of them moved apart, but when they did, Race’s watery eyes were not alone.

“You…you named him after me?” He asked meekly. His sister just smiled sadly and took his hands.

“I-well, when I got pregnant, it was right before you left. We all thought we’d never get to see you again, but we still wanted to keep a little piece of you around, you know? I really hope you don’t mind, Tony,” she spoke before Race hugged her again, kissing her cheek over and over.

“ ’Course, Gianna. This is…the most amazin’ thing I could’a ever dreamed of,” he started, looking around at everyone. “Really, all a’ you’s is exactly like I’s always remembered an’ all a’ you’s new folks is jus’ perfect.”

The reunion lasted a bit longer as Race distanced himself for a moment, turning back to the other side of the street and grinning when he saw Spot still there leaning up against the wall of his apartment building watching from afar. Race practically pleaded silently as he waved for Spot to come join them, but after a probably unnecessary amount of miming, Spot made his way to the other side of the street, taking his place beside Race.

“ ‘Ey, everybody,” Race called, quickly gathering everyone’s attention as the excitedly crowded around the boys again. “I want you’s to meet my friend Sean.”

In seconds his mother’s arms were around Spot, thanking him over and over as the boy looked up at Race with a genuine smile on his face. He wanted so badly to just kiss him right then. He was so fucking happy and he had Spot to thank for all of it. Normally, he would’ve never even considered doing anything that would’ve jeopardized his relationship with his family, but as each member of his family seemed to take turns all praising Spot and thanking him over and over for reuniting them, Race just had to do it.

“Hey, uh ma? I’s kinda’ got somethin’ to say to all a you’s,” he asked, gesturing to his parents and older siblings. He looked over at Spot who seemed to immediately sense his nerves as he shot him a look as if to say, are you sure about this?

As his mom nodded and led his family in separate directions, Race hesitantly grabbed Spot’s hand and followed them. He stared at his feet for a long time before finally uttering the words.

“B’fore we’s all start doin’ anythin’ else, I feel like I’s gotta tell ya,” he started, looking around at all of their faces. “I’m gay.”

They looked startled for a moment, but the second Race looked down at Spot they just knew. In a flurry of motion, arms were thrown around bodies and Race pulled Spot towards him quickly before they were squeezed apart as Race’s family hugged them both tightly, all laughing happily.

Race, having stopped counting how many times he’d cried that morning, buried his face in Spot’s hair, holding him the tightest.

“So’s you all really don’t hate me?” He asked shyly, to which one glance between his mother and father gave him the answer.

“Son, not a single thing you could say or do could change how happy we are to have you back in our lives. ‘Tonio, we’ve been waiting for this moment for over eight years, and as long as you’re happy and he’s treating you well, we couldn’t be prouder,” his dad spoke with a smile.

Race just turned to Spot and kissed him right on his temple where a particularly large amount of snow had collected. The shorter boy smiled a little in surprise, but Race honestly just couldn’t care any less than he did after everything that had happened. Remembering that even though Race’s family shielded them pretty well, they were still in public so Race separated them quickly, resting his arms around Spot’s shoulders instead.

“D’you guys want ta’ come inside? I’s got a place in that buildin’,” Race suggested, to which everyone agreed and followed the boys inside.

Race’s apartment wasn’t small, but it was only ever meant to house one person, plus the occasional Spot. Once the roughly dozen people filled inside, the entire living room was packed and it looked just like it did every time their friends came over.

“Anybody hungry?” Race asked the room full of people and was met with a collective ‘yes’. He chuckled and retreated to the kitchen. He watched on as his family chatted amongst themselves, a flurry of both English and Italian, but mostly just laughs. As Race began preparing the food, Spot went to join him in the kitchen, sliding his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Spot, can I talk to ya’ for jus’ a minute?” He asked shyly, turning over his shoulder, remaining in Spot’s arms.

They smaller boy just glanced around to make sure no one needed anything before nodding and leading Race into his bedroom. The two hopped onto the bed, laying on their backs beside each other and staring straight up.

“I love you,” Spot spoke plainly, not turning his head at all, but maneuvering his hand until it found Race’s. It didn’t matter how he said it, it didn’t matter where he said it, but every single time Race heard those words it made his heart flutter. Race couldn’t help but grin at the hope that Spot felt the need to talk to him in private just to tell him he loved him. Plus, it further enforced the secret fact that Spot Conlon was not terrifying, but instead just a massive dork.

“I love you too,” he responded just as nonchalantly. A slight squeeze of his hand was enough of a comfort to help him breathe easy from the quite eventful morning they’d had. “For real though, I’s never been so happy in my life, Sean. That’s all ‘cause a’ you’s an’ I don’t know how to tell ya’ how grateful I is, but jus’ know that I love you. So, so much.”

Spot took their intertwined hands and held them to his lips, kissing Race’s knuckles softly.

“If there’s anybody in this world that deserves it, it’s you’s, Racer. I’s bein’ serious, ya’ better know that by now if I’s sayin’ somethin’ genuine you’s gotta believe it,” he joked, finally turning to face his boyfriend who was already staring over at him. “What? Ya’ like the view?”

Race snorted, rolling his eyes scoffing at Spot.

“Yeah, definitely,” he teased sarcastically. “You’s so pretty, it must be tiring.”

“Damn right it is, I’s exhausted,” Spot countered without missing a beat.

Race just cackled, rolling over as he curled into Spot’s side laughing like a maniac. Spot just let go of his hand and wrapped his arms around the boy’s body, pulling him on top of him as they rolled around laughing.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Spot mumbled into Race’s ears they teetered over the edge of the bed. He took one look at his boyfriend, his blond curls a mess from their previous antics, his bright blue eyes watering from laughing so hard, and his freckled cheeks rosy from the closeness of Spot on top of him.

Race just snickered, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his dimples widening as he smiled.

“Right,” he said laughing. “Forgot ‘bout that for a little while there.”

Spot just smirked, attempting to pull the two of them further up so they weren’t practically hanging off the edge, but that didn’t exactly go as planned.

“Spot!” Race practically screamed as the two went falling off the side, landing side by side on the hardwood floor, grateful only for a moment that their clothes from the night before were still covering the floor.

Spot was about to say something witty about them really falling for each other, but he couldn’t help it. He just tugged Race to his chest and laughed openly and loudly.

Race just closed his eyes, burying his face in Spot’s shirt and listened to the sweetest sound in the world. He couldn’t help but think of everything that led to them, from the first time he saw the former king of Brooklyn in person, feeling something about him that he could never identify. It took years, a lot of sneaking out, a secret best friendship, and a healthy disregard for the law before he ever knew what it was that made him so drawn to the boy that made every other kid in Manhattan run away screaming.

It was almost the same thing that made Jack call out to the tiny boy sprinting off the docs that day in July. The same thing that made him take a chance on a kid unlike any he’d ever met. The thing that convinced Spot Conlon not to soak the scrawny kid from Manhattan running around Brooklyn turf. The thing that made him take a chance on applying to school. It was what made him tell his family of friends the scariest two words in the world, and the thing that made him come back to them at the end of every day. It was the thing that made his family able to let him go for the chance of a better life. It was the thing that allowed them to give up their own dreams for him to live them instead. It was the same thing that kept him going every day.

Love. All different kinds from familial love, to friendship love, to, well, love love.

He just curled up into the boy next to him and held on tight.

“You’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbled, truly happier than he’d ever been.

Spot kissed the top of his head and squeezed his watering eyes shut. No one would ever see him cry, not for a little bit longer, but he just didn’t want to da anything to ruin this moment. Race’s words echoes over and over in his head as he felt something he’d never felt before.

No one had ever said anything like that to him before and in that moment he realized just how amazingly special what they had was. Nothing he could ever think of to say could possibly be everything he meant so simply just holding him would have to be enough for now.

It was as if they completely forgot about the world around them and just laid content on the floor of Race’s bedroom, surrounded by discarded clothes and old newspapers.

In fact, they did forget about the world for a little while, because they were in for a rude awakening when the smoke alarm started blaring.

“ _Figlio di puttana_!” Race swore loudly, scrambling to get up as Spot just sat there laughing at him. Race just glared before sprinting into the kitchen where he had stupidly left the stove burners on.

When Race emerged into the kitchen, frantically opening his apartment door and fanning the smoke out with a towel, his family stood around the living room, clearly very concerned and confused.

“Sorry, sorry! ’t’s fine, I’s always doin’ this,” he spoke erratically, taking the pan off the stove and dumping its burnt contents into the trash.

Spot had propped himself up on one of the barstools facing the kitchen and turned back to Race’s family, a smirk on his face.

“You’d never guess, but he’s a chef,” Spot teased, glancing back at Race who scoffed at the shit-eating grin on his face.

“ _In training,_ ” Race interjected, immediately sparking a conversation with his family.

“Oh, darling really? That’s incredible, are you studying it, or just working somewhere, or-?” His mother was cut off from her excitement as Race actually tried to stay humble.

“I’m still in school, ma, it ain’t that big a’ deal.”

Spot just rolled his eyes and turned to Race’s parents.

“He’s got a’ full ride scholarship to the Institute a’ Culinary Education,” Spot explained for him, taking note of the blush that filled his boyfriend’s cheeks. “Which is definitely a big deal, Tony”

“Okay, so if you’re some hot-shot culinary pro or whatever, then explain to me how you just burnt a pot of oatmeal,” his younger brother teased, sticking his tongue out to mirror Race’s.

“Suddup’ Marco, I’d like to see ya’ try,” he joked, grabbing some bread and deciding to just go for French toast instead. “Besides, if you’s doubtin’ me, I’s got more oatmeal in ‘ere an’ it’d definitely be worth it ta’ burn down my house jus’ to see you try to cook for once in your life.”

The younger boy just laughed and admitted his defeat as Race began making toast after toast and passing them around. The giant family continued making small talk with one another, but the conversation quickly turned from casual catching up, to a recipe for disappointment.

“So, how did you two meet?” Race glanced up from his food to see his older sister gesturing between him and Spot. They looked at each other as Race frantically tried to come up with something.

“We, um-“

“We used to work t’gether,” Spot finished, smoothly filling in as Race felt himself exhale a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

She nodded in a way that could only tell she was still curious.

“That’s nice,” she continued with a smile. “How long ago? Ooh, Tony what was your first job?”

Excitement lit up her eyes as others around the table began to take notice and pay attention to their conversation. Spot’s hand found it’s way to Race’s beside him and he pressed circles into his palm, trying to silently ease his nerves.

Back when Race first told Spot about his family, the one thing he said that broke Spot’s heart more than anything else was when Race told him he thought his family would be disappointed in him. He was sure of it and he felt like it was too late. He told Spot how they wanted him to find a family to live with, to continue going to school, and all of the things he did back home, but Race just never could. He never realized how different New York was from Italy until it was too late. Spot could just tell Race was terrified, no matter how well he had trained himself to hide it.

“I, uh, used’ta sell newspapers. We both did,” he eventually responded, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

He glanced over as the older one of his younger brothers started giggling.

“A paperboy? Really?”

Race blushed nervously, trying to think of a retort.

“What? You ain’t never had a job either,” he spat back, earning a scoff from the boy.

“Fine, but I’m only twelve! No one works that young.”

Race just rolled his eyes and didn’t even think as he let the words roll off his tongue.

“We did.”

The room was silent for a moment as Race felt the realization sink in. His heart was racing and he frantically squeezed Spot’s hand tighter and tighter to the point where Spot simply reached his hand over and felt the other boy’s pulse, noticing how rapid his heart was beating.

He leaned over and whispered in Race’s ear, “Baby, ’t’s okay, you ain’t gotta say anythin’ you don’t wanna, but you’s gotta calm down. Deep breaths, remember? In for five, out for seven.”

Race nodded and did so until he was slightly more in control over himself. His grip on Spot’s hand loosened and he continued.

“We’s both sold papes since we was kids. Sean since he was ‘bout eight or nine. I jus’ started when I got ‘ere,” Race explained, hoping the conversation was done.

“Wow, I’m quite impressed you two were able to handle all of that, what with going to school and family duties and all that,” his mother praised, smiling so innocently that neither of the boys had the heart to tell her.

Spot just looked over at Race and spoke softly, “Tony, you’s don’t gotta do this. I’ll tell ‘em if ya’ want me to, but they’s gonna need ta’ find out eventually.”

He took a deep breath one more time and just made a decision, hardly thinking past his gut instinct.

“Ma? Can we’s talk for a minute? Both a you’s?” He asked shyly, pointing at both of his parents and standing from the table as he gave Spot a look, silently asking him to come too.

They retreated into the hallway, closing the door behind them as Race leaned back against the wood.

“Son, whatever the problem is, you can tell us,” his father started, putting his hand on Race’s shoulder.

Race just nodded and tried to ignore his heartbeat echoing through his eyes.

“I didn’t…go back ta’ school when I came here,” he spoke slowly, not looking up from the ground.

“You…what?” All he could think about was how his mother sounded so disappointed.

“Please, ma. Jus’ let me explain n’ then you’s can say whateva’ ya’ want,” Race mumbled, sniffling as he brushed off the freshly-fallen tears from his cheeks.

His mother nodded, remaining silent as his father wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“The day I got off tha’ boat…I found out jus’ how diff’rent it was ‘ere,” he started, his voice shaky and uncertain. “But then I met someone. His name’s Jack an’ he…helped me. He showed me how ta’ live ‘ere and he took me in. I told ‘im I needed ta’ find a fam’ly or somethin’, but he said th’only way ta’ get adopted ’s ta’ have a guardian ta’ give ya’ up. I told him I ain’t got nobody anymore n’ he gave me a place ta’ stay.”

Spot, for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon, slid his hand into Race’s to comfort him, wanting to badly to just hold him until his tears stopped falling.

“I know you’d were wantin’ me to get n’ education, but I’s doin’ it now an’ that’s all I’d able ta’ do. But ‘t’s not like I forgot everythin’ from school, I’s been teachin’ the boys I lived wit’ for years everythin’ I know’s. Those kids...they ain’t never been to school in they’s lives, but now they’s all can read, ma! I promise, I did somethin’ good,” he finished, his voice trailing off as he never once looked up from his shoes.

He could feel his chest getting tighter and heavier with each second of silence. The only thing keeping him from sinking into the floor was Spot’s hand squeezing his own tightly.

“Sweetheart, that’s far more important to me than you doing what you thought you were supposed to. I’m so proud of you, helping all those kids like that, ‘Tonio,” his mother said, cupping his cheek as she lifted his chin to look up at her.

“So you stayed with friends? Was it some sort of foster home?” His father seemed to feel just the same as he tried to help by moving on.

Race shrugged and nodded a little.

“Like I was sayin’, we used’ta sell newspapers. The city’s got a house for any a’ the kids that ain’t got a home, so’s Jack took me in an’ I lived there ‘til I was eighteen. I used’ta work nights at a lil’ restaurant nearby n’ I had some money saved up, so’s when I got into the school, I moved in ‘ere,” he spoke with a false confidence as he reached the part of the story he was the most afraid to tell. “There was ‘bout six months when we was sixteen an’ that’s the only part a’ my life that was anythin’ less than fine. The boys n’ I...we went on strike when tha’ guys that owned the papes decided to hike up tha’ price fo’ us. We’ only livin’ on pennies, so’s that was a big deal. We formed a union, got ourselves in the papes, an even held a city-wide protest, but fo’ a while we was all livin’ on the streets. The city had ta’ shut down our buildin’ since we wasn’t makin’ any money or nothin’. That’s when things got real bad. Our first day on tha’ strike, me ’n the otha’ guys from Manhattan went to tha’ circulation gates an’ all hell broke loose. The guys from the pape’s company was all there waitin’ for us an’ they’s all started soakin’ us left n’ right,” Race’s voice got more and more stuttered and shaky as he continued and Spot could tell, both from his own sickening recollection of the event, but from the fact that it was perfectly clear who badly it messed up Race. He took his arm in his free hand and traced along his forearm in a meager attempt to calm the boy down. “Accordin’ ta’ Jack, one a’ tha’ guys got me real good in the head with a bat b’cause I blacked out there an’ the next thing I knew we was in the refuge. Me an’ about two otha’ guys in what’s basic’lly a jail for kids, but they ain’t even feedin’ the kids there. I’s was only there ‘bout a week or so b’fore tha’ strike ended, but it was hell an’ I wouldn’t wish it on anybody, no matter what they’s done.”

He had to take a deep breath to stop the free-flowing tears and while he composed himself, Spot figured he’d give his own side of the story a shot.

“Back then, I used’ta lead the Brooklyn newsies. When Jack came to tha’ house one day tellin’ me he an’ his boys was goin’ on strike, I didn’t believe ‘im. I knew Jack an’ I knew what they’s was up against, but they did it. They asked us for help, I told ‘em to prove they ain’t in ova’ they’s heads, an’ the night after the strike Jack’s back at my doorstep beggin’ me to help get ‘im back. I was confused at first, but I knew he was tellin’ the truth. I asked ‘im who he was talkin’ ‘bout, an’ he jus’ looked at me wit’ this look an’ said ‘you know’. It took about three seconds b’fore I was out the door runnin’ to Manhattan. I promised myself that night that I ain’t gonna lose ‘im again,” Spot finished, gripping Race’s hand like it was his only lifeline. He looked up at his boyfriend to see if he was okay to continue, but he nodded as if he knew what Spot was about to ask, and kept going.

“I don’t know why we’s tellin’ you all this, but I feel like you’s should know ‘bout tha’ biggest parts a’ my life an’, well, this is most a’ it. Tha’ day we won tha’ strike, Jack got the gov’na ta’ shut down the refuge an’ I made ‘em take me ta’ Brooklyn first so’s I could see Sean. Tha’ second I climbed outta’ that carriage he held me an’ told me jus’ that. I ain’t been worried ‘bout bein’ safe in years ‘cause now I ain’t alone. Eva’ since then I’s had the most amazing life, you wouldn’t even believe it. I’s got amazing friends, I’s got a job, I’s got school, an I’s got Sean. That’s all I could eva’ want or need, so’s far as I’s concerned, my life ain’t nothin’ short a’ everythin’ I could possibly dream of,” Race concluded, still trying to stop his tears from falling, but he was smiling a real smile and that meant more than the tears.

His parents didn’t even say anything. They just lunged straight forward and hugged their son. Both of their eyes were filled with tears and Spot could tell they were having a bit of a ‘moment’ so he went to step back a bit, before Race mom grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him in. Spot chuckled at the frank inclusion, but joined the hug nonetheless. It had been a really long time since he’d had a family with actual parents that sometimes he forgot what it was like, but this…this was nice.

“Don’t even think about it, Sean. You’re just as much of a part of his family as any of the rest of us, so you better get used to being included,” Race’s dad teased as the boy just grinned with his crooked smile.

“Yessir’,” he retorted, half-sarcastically as they pulled apart, Spot keeping his arms around Race’s waist a little longer.

“Should we go back inside now? I’m sure everyone’s probably wondering what’s going on,” Race commented with a chuckle as he opened the door.

“Nah, you go on ahead, I’d got one more thing I’s gotta say, if you don’t mind..?”

Race just nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving Spot outside with is parents.

“Sean, sweetheart, we can’t even begin to thank you enough for everything you’ve done for our son. Honestly, he looks so happy around you, it’s practically contagious,” his mother said, earning a bit of blush to rise to Spot’s cheeks.

“Thank you, ma’am. Your son…he’s the best part a’ my life. I’d do anythin’ ta’ make ‘im happy,” he gushed, embarrassing himself with how sappy he was being. If any of their friends knew about this, he’d probably be dead. “But really, there’s actually something I’s been wantin’ to ask the two of you.”

Race’s parents just stood together and nodded.

“Mr. and Mrs. Higgins, I know ’t’s no where near legal for us ta’ actually do this, but if we actually could, I’d ask for permission ta’ marry your son. I know I’s pro’lly not even close ta’ what you’s was expectin’ Tony’s partner ta’ look like all these years, but he’s everythin’ to me an’ if it ain’t too weird, I’s had somethin’ planned for ages an’ I jus’ wanted ta’ get your permission,” Spot spoke as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small wooden box. He instantly smiled as he looked at it in his hands, flipping the box open and showing it to Race’s parents. The ring was nothing too fancy, but to say the least, Spot had been working on making this perfect for ages. It was a thin silver band with a pair of two tiny stones in the middle; one pale blue and one marbled shades of brown. “I really wanted the stones ta’ mean somethin’, ya’ know? Believe me, I’s known Tony long enough to know he ain’t picky about diamonds or nothin’, so’s I went wit’ somethin’ that has meaning. The blue one, that’s Larimar. It’s s’posed ta’ mean love, n’ personal strength, n’ healing. I thought it was nice, plus who don’t need more a’ that?”

He was still just staring at the box in Race’s mother’s hands, not ready to look them in the faces yet.

“The brown one, that’s a smoky quartz. It means somethin’ like endurance n’ pride, which seemed very _him_ , you know? Anyways, you’s don’t gotta say yes, I know this ’s pretty stupid since we’s ain’t even able ta’ get married or nothin’, but I’d still like ta’ know, if we could, if it would be okay,” Spot finished, swallowing the lump in his throat as he looked up at Race’s parents. His mother gingerly shut the box and handed it back to Spot, who tucked it back away into his pocket.

“Sean, never in my life have I encountered someone with such an obvious relationship with the concept of love,” his mother started, worrying Spot instantly. “It’s clear this isn’t easy for you, it’s pretty clear you’re still afraid of being so close to someone, but mostly I can just tell, both as a mother and as someone who knows what it’s like to love someone and not be able to do everything to show it, I can tell it scares you how much you love him. It makes me so happy to see the two of you and, darling, there’s no one I’d rather see my son with than you. I don’t have to know much about you to know you’re a good person and if it makes any difference, I wish you could actually marry each other. People will say what they will about people like the two of you, but in all honesty, I’ve never seen a problem with it. I love love and I love people that love each other. I don’t care who they are or what makes them different, I just care if they make each other happy. The only thing I ask is that you do this while we’re still here. I feel like we’ve all missed so many important moments, but I’d like to at least be able to be there for one.”

Spot just couldn’t stop smiling. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever smiled so much in his life, but he at least had a reason.

“I thought ya’ might say that,” he started. “Which is why I was plannin’ on doin’ it as soon as possible.”

His father chuckled, clapping Spot on the back.

“I’m real happy for you, kid. Just make sure you remember to breathe. I remember the day I asked Elena to marry me. I was just some wannabe-businessman from Ireland who found this beautiful Italian woman who liked him for God knows what reasons, but when you finally do it, it’ll feel like the easiest thing in the world.”Spot blushed, glancing once more down at the box in his hands before nodding and tucking it back away in his pocket. He looked between both of Race’s parents with a smile.

“Thank you both. Really, I haven’t had a fam’ly in years an’ it’s real nice to see all a you’s together. It means a lot that you’s so supportive of all a’ this,” he gushed, not caring anymore about his typical image.

“That’s what families are for, Sean, and now you’re a part of this one,” Race’s mother finished, heading back inside as her husband followed close behind. He stepped back in as well and closed the door behind them, smirking at Race running around the apartment with one of his nieces on his shoulders squealing with laughter.

He dodged out of their way as Race came running past and gathered as many members of the Higgins family as he could to sit around the living room. There was sadly only one couch, which meant anyone that didn’t get a seat was sitting around the coffee table on the floor, but most of the kids didn’t mind so the couch was left for the adults. Race and his niece calmed down and went to join everyone else after a while and both sat on the floor, the other twin girl climbing into his lap alongside her sister.

Spot sat up against the wall and looked over at his boyfriend, unsurprisingly looking back at him with a smile.

“How’s about we’s all get some Christmas spirit going?” Spot suggested, only to be met with cheers and excitement. He hopped up and went to start the record player in the corner. The two were quite the collectors of records and each had substantial collections at their respective apartments. Spot pickled out one of the multiple holiday albums and placed the needle on the track, filling the room with festive music.

“Well, before we do anything else,” Race’s oldest sister Gianna spoke up, standing from the sofa. “Tony, we all brought you some things. We figured, since it’s Christmas and we’ve all missed out on so many of them with you, we should make up for lost time.”Race immediately tried to shut her down, but once the rest of his family went to their things to collect gifts, he was completely out-numbered. Now alone on the floor, Race motioned for Spot to come sit beside him, patting the space on the floor beside him. Spot faked a groan and sat next to his boyfriend, both of them going to lean against each other as Race laid his head on Spot’s shoulder and Spot leaned his head on Race’s in turn.

They stayed like that for a while as Race’s family gave him their gifts, mostly books, house tools like pots and pans, and even a new pair of boots, before Spot reluctantly pulled himself from his position.

“Hey, what’re you-“

“Tony I’s got one more surprise for ya’,” Spot spoke with a teasing chuckle that made Race bury his face in his hands dramatically.

“ _Stronza_ , I said it this mornin’ and I’s gonna say it again, you’s gonna be the death a’ me,” Race teased back, turning to face his boyfriend, never faltering the smile on his face.

Spot chuckled a little, sticking his hand into his pocket as he held on tightly to the box.

“First, b’fore I’s start sayin’ anythin’, can somebody get ‘im a chair? This ain’t gonna work if I’s this much taller than you’s,” Spot joked, thanking Race’s older brother who pulled up a chair from the dining table for his brother to sit. Race perched his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his hands as Spot nervously fiddled with the box in his hand.

“Alright, I guess now’s as good a’ time as any,” Spot started, taking a deep breath and looking back at Race. “You’s known me long enough to know I ain’t good with words, let a long when I’s under pressure, so bare with me.”

Race giggled softly, rolling his eyes.

“ ‘Course.”

“Good, well, I’s about to get really sappy so here goes nothin’. Racer, I’s loved you for what feels like my whole life so far, n’ I want more than anythin’ to love you for the rest of it. I know it ain’t legal or nothin’ for us to be together, let alone get married or nothin’, but let’s jus’ pretend for a second that we could. I wish I could marry you b’cause you’s the first person I wanna see when I wake up in the mornin’ and the only one I wanna’ kiss goodnight. I wish I could marry you b’cause you’s the biggest idiot I’s ever met n’ I absolutely love you for it. I wish I could marry you b’cause I feel like everythin’ in my life has led me ta’ you. My choices, my regrets, everything, but earn we’s together, everythin’ in my past seems worth it b’cause I feel like if I’d done even one thing diff’rently, I might’ve never met you,” Spot gushed, finally, for once in his life, letting the tears filling his eyes finally fall. “I wish, from tha’ bottom a’ my heart, that I could marry you jus’ b’cause I never wanna stop makin’ memories wit’ you. I never knew what it was that was missin’ from my life until tha’ day you’s decided ta’ come ta’ Brooklyn n’ I say your face for tha’ first time, but then one day, maybe weeks later or maybe months later, I just knew. It was you. You’s the thing that was missing from me for so long, but now I’s got you and now I ain’t never letting you go.”

Spot took out the box from his pocket, sinking onto one knee in front of Race, who was practically sobbing at this point, only to make his hands fly up to his mouth and his tears fall faster.

“O-oh my god,” he mumbled out, staring wide-eyed at Spot.

“Tony, you’s the most amazin’ man I’s ever had the honor of knowin’. You’s stronger, kinder, smarter, and so much more beautiful than anyone else in this world, no matter what you’s ever thinkin’ of ya’self. I’s so goddamn lucky to be in love wit’ you n’ if we could I’d ask you ta’ marry me right now, but we can’t, so’s I gotta settle for jus’ askin’ you ta’ love me as long as you want to,” he finished, wiping the tears from his eyes before opening the box. “Antonio Higgins, tha’ only man I’s ever gonna love, will you be tha’ closest thing ta’ married wit’ me?”

Race just chuckled as he nodded over and over.

“Y-yes, yes, yes, _merda santa_ , yes oh my god!”

Spot just took the ring from the box and took one of Race’s shaking hands, slipping it gently onto his fourth finger. He took Race’s hand brought it to his lips, and kissed right where the ring rested on his finger before leaning in to softly kiss his trembling lips. Race wrapped his arms around Spot’s shoulders, burying his face in the other boy’s shoulder as neither of them could stop smiling.

“I love you so much, baby,” Spot mumbled in his ear, blocking out all of the congratulations and cheers from Race’s family around them as they both just savored each other.

“I love you more than I could ever possibly find a way ta’ say ta’ you,” Race whispered back with the rawest, truest, and most genuine sense of contentment in his voice that it felt like everything that he thought had hurt him over the years was really just making him appreciate the most beautiful thing he’d ever experience. To love and be loved my someone was rare for the time. Most people married and dated people they didn’t love, just people others wanted them to. People were happy with their lives, but not because of that. There we’re far to many people in the world that were happy because they married rich, or that they could travel the world, or that they were successful in their job, but not enough people were satisfied with love.

To be rebellious with love was the most exciting adventure the two boys had and would ever go on together. Every healthy disregard for the law they ever had was simply training for this moment when they would promise each other that no matter what, they would never become the normal people of New York City. They would never be normal because they wanted to be happy for all the right reasons. They would never be like all the other people in New York because they would never want to be. They couldn’t be happy that way and if they couldn’t be together, then that life wasn’t worth living. It was as simple as that for the rest of their lives.

“I’m yours, always,” Spot murmured one last time into Race’s ear and the world that had momentarily stopped for them kept spinning. They were running the race of change faster than anyone else and this time it was a relay. Race had never run a relay, but they both knew that he was the fastest runner Manhattan had ever seen, so if they could go fast enough together, they could pass on their story to someone else, and then they would pass it onto someone else and maybe by the time someone reached the finish line, they would have sparked a change in the regular people of New York City. Maybe in a decade, or five, or fifty, or maybe not until a century later, the regular people of New York City would all start running beside them on the way to a change, and maybe if they had lived in a different time, they could’ve actually been married. Maybe they could be like the regular people couples of New York City.

Or maybe they just wouldn’t want to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fucking did it. i can't believe i almost made it to 15k words for one chapter jfc. in case anyone's curious, the final word count was 14,861.
> 
> and that's it for this storyline! i do have a fic similar to this planned, but instead of it being race-centric, i eventually want to write something like this for spot since i teased a little at his backstory in previous chapters. if that's something anyone would like to read, let me know either in the comments here or on tumblr @tony-higgins !
> 
> here are the translations of all of the italian words and phrases used:  
> bambino - child/son/etc  
> amore mio - my love  
> voglio stare sempre con te - i always want to be with you  
> ehilà - hey there  
> sono tuo zio tony - i'm your uncle tony  
> meraviglioso di conoscerti, mie bellissime principessine - wonderful to meet you, my beautiful princesses  
> figlio di puttana - son of a bitch  
> stronza - asshole


End file.
